


it's just me who's different

by SparkleandPop



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: AU inside of an AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends, Family, Gen, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Limited, except not really because school isn't really the main focus but it's there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleandPop/pseuds/SparkleandPop
Summary: It was a warm September that developed into a chilly August when Buttercup woke up in one of the Townsville hospitals. She was the toughest fighter and prided herself on that. This world, however, would defy that title with the many challenges it would throw at her. Can she handle them all?
Relationships: Brick/Buttercup Utonium, Sara Bellum/Professor Utonium
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. a shockingly mundane afternoon (August)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Buttercup blinks and the world seems to turn upside down.

One punch.

Two punches.

A punch with both arms.

No matter how hard she tried, willed her body to work, Buttercup was far too slow and far too weak to land the hits. It was pitiful how easily he dodged all her attacks. Her stupid, frail - _weak_ body couldn’t keep up. She could see all the moves he was making before he made them but no matter what she did her body was half a beat slower than her mind and her opponent; it was driving Buttercup mad.

“Don’t stop.” She hissed when she saw him taking an extra step back, knowing the way his knees turned that he was readying a retreat.

This time, for the first time since they started fighting -or, technically, since Buttercup started fighting (all he was doing was dodging and occasionally pushing her fists away with open palms) he looked at her. He was actually looking at her instead of looking through her as though she wasn’t even worth his time. Which, the anger continued to boil as Buttercup recognized, she truly wasn’t. This fight was one-sided and pathetic, which was saying something since she fought the Amoeba boys.

“Fight me!” Buttercup screamed and, throwing any rationality behind (the little she had left), she lowered half of her body, stretched her arms out, and charged.

He just...stood there.

Stood.

There.

“Don’t tell Blossom.”

She could see him lowering his fist and unable to stop because of her stupid, delayed reactions, tried to brace herself.

Of course her body couldn’t even do that in time.

It hurt, hurt so bad. Hurt more than any other hit Buttercup had ever taken. It showed her that yes, this sad, sad world where she had no powers wasn’t a dream because she was so _pathetically_ slow and a punch with no strength knocked the breath out of her.

“Thank you.” She wheezed as her arms clutched her stomach, body trembling as it instinctively curled into itself as though looking like some feeble turtle wannabe was going to make the pain go away. Even though Buttercup's ego was far more bruised than her stomach was going to be, she was thankful for that small moment he took her seriously. That alone made this sad, sad fight just a little less...depressing.

“Weirdo.”

**~~~1 week earlier~~~**

It was a regular day in the city of Townsville. Even as a breeze signaling the start of Fall swept the town, the sun countered the weather with an abnormally bright shine. People cluttered the streets, teens squeaked their sneakers down the halls, and Buttercup was overcome with the yawns as her AP Math teacher (why the school decide she’d do good in that level was beyond her) droned on and on about math problems she knew she’d struggle with until she was senile. Never had she’d been more thankful for her Powerpuff Hotline cellphone going off in the middle of class. She grinned, waved a quick goodbye to her classmates, and flew out of the “conveniently” open window. It didn’t take long for Buttercup to find her sisters in the middle of Downtown Townsville as they observed a giant monster that looked eerily like a golem made out of molten lava turn the ground beneath it into red pools. She sighed and rolled her eyes as Blossom and Bubbles exchanged a pre-victory high five. Why wouldn’t they? Blossom’s icy breath was all they needed to defeat this small fry menace.

“Leave it to me, girls.” Buttercup mouthed Blossom's lines as she disappeared with a pink streak.

“You should be happy, Buttercup! This means we’ll be done super quick and won’t have to miss too much class. Oh, I’m so excited! I’m almost done with my art project. Do you want to see it when I’m done?”

She really didn’t care but said yes for the sake of her sisters happiness.

She never thought she would want to see the project or her AP math class.

She never thought the monster would manage to escape Blossom’s ice and make a beeline to where they were floating.

She never thought the monster would eat her.

Buttercup didn’t think at all until she smelled alcohol and, blinking repeatedly, realized that the view of the open city transformed into the view of a white-tiled ceiling.

“See, I told you that would work! I saw it in a movie once.”

“Bubbles! That’s only when someone faints! Pu- Oh, she’s awake...DAD! SHE’S AWAKE!”

Blinking the grogginess away was all Buttercup could do as she saw the blurred outlines of her sisters disappear and the outline of the Professor take their place.

“Oh dear. Buttercup, sweetie, would you like some water?”

Buttercup weakly nodded her head and continued the vain attempt of regaining her vision. She could feel chilled glass touching her lips and, on instinct, opened her mouth just enough that the Professor was able to tip some of the water in. She gulped it down, only then processing the feeling of sweat all over her body, sticking her clothes- a nightgown? On her skin. It felt sticky and gross but those emotions easily vanished the minute she turned her head and felt long strands of hair sticking to her back. She froze.

“What the-”

She could feel the Professor slowly move away to give her space as her hand went behind her head and pushed the strands, feeling just how long they were. It felt…like it was long enough to reach her hips.

“Bubbles, did you contact the boys? Blossom, can you click for the nurse?”

“Yes!”

“I’m on it!”

But that was impossible, her hair only reached up to her shoulders and that was only because she decided to let it grow out a little with all the “Buttercup! Please please pleaseee let your hair grow out a little. Try something new!” pleads from Bubbles. A voice at the back of her head screamed ideas like “you got yourself in a coma”, “the monster was a hair monster”, they put a wig on you as a joke”. Yes, it all sounded ridiculous but for a girl who was slowly regaining her sight and was able to confirm that she wasn’t imagining the smell of a hospital room, anything could be possible.

Taking a deep breath, Buttercup asked “How long have I been out?” realizing after the words left her mouth just how raspy her voice sounded. Really, how long had she been out?

“About three day.” The Professor replied while his cool hand touched her forehead, making her flinch. As his fingers crawled into her scalp she could feel the smooth, slightly calloused skin ease her tension away. She almost lost herself in the familiar soothing sensation before recalling the reason she was in this situation.

“And the monster? Did Bloss get it with her ice breath?”

It was a genuine question but weirdly enough the Professor looked at her like he had no idea what she was talking about. He ought to have known what knocked her out, right? So she searched for Blossom and Bubbles to see why it was that he seemed clueless. When she spotted them through her still blurred vision sitting on some chairs close to the door of the room, she could tell from the silence and squinting her eyes to see that they were looking at her like they had no idea either. She would have reiterated her question if she didn’t suddenly feel a wave of nausea that made her lean back into the hospital bed. Buttercup didn’t say much else, deciding it would be best to just stay quiet and let her body relax as the nurse came into the room. The unfamiliar pudgy blond looked so happy to see her that it was a little unsettling; she never did like too cheery nurses, they gave her the creeps. So she decided then to pretend like she had fallen asleep. Luckily they bought it. After all, if she had been asleep or whatever for three days then who’s to say she couldn’t fall asleep then.

“How is she?”

“See seems a lot more stable. I felt her forehead and it seems her fever has reduced.”

“That’s amazing. I’ll get her temperature in a moment. Is there anything she told you she might want or need?”

“No...Nothing of the sort.” Why did the Professor sound so hesitant? And why was she...so sleepy?

When she opened her eyes again she was greeted with the sight of a dark ceiling. She could hear mumbling and made out one of the voices as Blossom but...who was the other?

“It was weird. She said something about a monster and me having ice breath and then fell asleep. The nurse says that it’s probably a delirium she was going through. If she wakes up again just let us know, okay? I gotta go now. Bye, love you.” The sound of a kiss hitting skin, the squeak of sneakers, and the closing of a door were the last sounds Buttercup heard as she pieced together what Blossom had said.

It made no sense, what delirium? What did that even mean?

When Buttercup felt she had enough strength to move she pressed her hands firmly on the mattress and pushed herself up to a sitting position. She could hear the drip of the IV plug and make out the static of the TV hovering a few feet away as it struggled between showing a white screen and what she assumed was tomorrow’s weather report. At least her vision had gone back to normal with rest.

When she turned her head to the side, she saw the door that Blossom had left out of and the row of three uncomfortable looking black chairs where Blossom and Bubbles had been sitting (she assumed with the darkness) hours before.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Mornin’.” He didn’t even look at her, his head hanging low and body slouched over what Buttercup assumed must be his phone. Even in the dimly lit room (which she’d think later is ridiculous, why was it so dark? Did he have night vision or something or was the hospital trying to save a little on their electric bill?) she could make out the ridiculous red cap he’d always wear. It was flipped back, same old fashion, and with the little light that the room had thanks to the curtain-less windows she could catch the pieces of orange hair that stuck out of the cap closure. She didn’t need to see the eyes to know.

“What are you doing here?” Buttercup spat purposefully. There was no way, _no_ way Blossom had left her alone with...with...a Rowdyruff boy.

“Babysitting.”

She had to bite back a scream. A large, angry howl that was sure to shatter the glass of the entire floor if she didn’t contain it. Buttercup struggled to pool all her energy into grabbing the side of the bed. Even though her body was so weak she felt like she’d topple over, she turned. One foot then the other and she managed to somewhat control the wobbling as she stood up. Tried as she might Buttercup’s could not float and she wondered if Brick spiked her IV with Antidote X just to spite her.

He must have heard her because that made him finally look up and- yup, that was definitely Brick. What with the glowing red eyes and what not.

“What’s your angle?” She asked as she took one small step towards him, hating just how much she had to struggle for that step. She had about five more to go if her math wasn’t failing her.

Brick looked utterly unamused as he watched her. If anything, Buttercup hated to think, it was as though he was looking through her. Not only did she feel weak and confused but this jerk had the audacity to make it seem like she wasn’t even there. It (she’d never admit aloud) added an extra kick to her bruised and confused ego.

“Go back to bed.” He muttered while his attention returned to the phone she had caught a glimpse of seconds ago.

It took much longer than Buttercup would have liked but when she finally made it to her destination she pulled her arm back and released a punch she had been itching to throw for hours. But...it did absolutely nothing. She watched, appalled, as Brick’s head remained firmly in place as though all she did was poke his cheek and not release all the strength she had left in her body. Speaking of, Buttercup felt her legs shake uncontrollably as they let themselves go and with it all of her fell to the ground. He didn't even flinch. Buttercup laid there. She knew that even if she tried her body wouldn't budge, so she opted to stay on the ground and wonder how in the world this could happen because of some giant lava rock.

"This blows."

She felt arms go underneath her and pull her up. He was... carrying her? Brick took her all the way and (shockingly) gently laid her down on the bed. She could feel his body heat leave and a shiver crawl up her arms from the AC that, for some stupid reason, was pointed directly at her. The covers were underneath her and as much as she needed them she refused to ask the retreating guy for help.

"Listen here, when I get my powers back I'm going to make you beg for mercy."

She thought he'd stay slouched over, ignoring her. For a few seconds Brick did before slowly raised his head. She couldn't fully make out his face but with the little she saw through the darkness she thought he looked confused.

“The power of crying? No thanks. I’ve been hoping for years you’d lose that.”

Now that got her over the boiling point. How could he insinuate she was a cryer? She was the Powerpuff that cried the least! It was one of her many pride points, one of the many reasons she held her title of toughest. Even if Bubbles was ‘hardcore’ Buttercup was the stronger one and that strength included not crying in front of her enemies.

“’I’m going to beat you so bad you’ll think twice about sayin’ somethin’ as bogus as me being a cryer.”

She could make out the sound of Brick’s chuckle. It was a small, quick sound that disappeared as fast as it came but it gave her just enough strength to ball her hand into a fist. Now she was determined to heal as fast as possible. Buttercup may have learned to control her temper through the years but she also developed the ability to turn her rage into fuel for her goals. She grinned maliciously as she closed her eyes and willed her body to let go. It was simple; keep quiet, do as the doctors say, get strong, get out, and get the stupid Rowdyruff alone to show him a thing or two about belittling her and spiking her IV with Antidote X.

* * *

The next morning welcomed Buttercup with more strength and a bigger than life resolution to recover; she was excited to practice some punches with a clear victim in mind. When the door to her room opened and she saw her sisters come in with the Professor following behind, she was both ecstatic to see them and fully prepared to question if they knew who had paid her a visit last night. Her eyes jumped from the Professor to Blossom before resting on Bubbles -her grin faltered. Her vision had fully cleared from the night before and she knew she wasn’t seeing things. Bubbles, who looked genuinely happy to see Buttercup awake was shorter, her face a little fuller, and her eyes just as big as they always were. Of course that was Bubbles but...why did she look like she just came out of their Pokey Oaks Middle School photo album?

“What’s wrong, honey?” The Professor chimed in. Only he and Blossom seemed to realize something was off as Bubbles walked the rest of the way and brought Buttercup into a soft, gentle hug.

She knew she’d hate herself later for asking but had to make sure she wasn’t in another time travel episode gone horribly wrong. “What year is it?”

Now all three of them were giving her concerned gazes. Bubbles lips were pouting as she pressed their foreheads together for what Buttercup figured was to make sure her fever was gone. Sure it was still hot but Buttercup knew she was okay, she could feel it.

“It’s 2009. August fifteen to be exact.” The Professor (finally) answered.

“Her fever feels like it’s almost gone.” Bubbles chirped up. It was likely her attempt at alleviating the mood.

But that didn’t make sense. The year was the same but she remembered it being closer to the end of September when she last looked at the calendar. What made even less sense was how Bubbles looked like she did back in 2006 and, she could feel it as she moved her head slightly, the long hair she knew couldn’t be a wig brushing against her back. There was no way her hair could grow over twice as long as it used to be in such a short amount of time. Well, maybe the monster did have magical hair growing abilities after all. Wouldn’t be the first time one of those things had a useless power.

“I’ll go get the nurse.” Blossom said as she slipped out of the room.

It was easy to pretend to be asleep after the test of the day. She was grateful for her amazing acting skills and the fact that her doctor and family seemed completely comfortable with talking about her as if they weren’t in her room. Being a ‘deep sleeper’ sure paid off sometimes.

Buttercup still couldn’t believe the doctor had the nerve of not only saying that ‘hallucinations’ aren’t uncommon for people to suffer after high fevers but that she also seemed to have amnesia. After a few seconds of silence (were they not going to protest what the guy said!?) she could make out the voice of the Professor bring up what she said yesterday about the monster and how she questioned what year it was. The doctor muttered something as the sound of a pen scratching paper echoed in the silent room. Buttercup hated the guy, how he looked like he believed her when she retold the story of the lava monster during the test. Maybe Brick wasn’t the one who spiked her IV with Antidote X, maybe it was this clearly deranged doctor. Didn’t he realize he was dealing with the Powerpuff girls? Was this some new villain's big scheme to mess with her mind? When the doctor left Buttercup debated confronting her family. She couldn’t believe they all just went along with the nonsense that doctor was saying. How could they? She was mad, so mad, but she knew that getting mad at them wouldn’t change the words on her medical report. She kept the act up, listening as Bubbles and Blossom whispered to one another but not able to make out all the words.

She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep for real until she woke up and saw the Professor stepped into the room without Blossom or Bubbles. He was kind enough, helped her get out of bed and talked to her about random little topics like his latest experiments and how he was planning to take everyone out to celebrate after Buttercup’s release so she could have some good food inside her. They both laughed at that because, as the Professor had said, “nothing beats food outside of a hospital”. She did a great job of swallowing her outrage (then again, could anyone stay mad at the Professor for long?). She had almost forgotten until the Professor brought up that the stupid doctor would be conducting some more psychological tests the next day.

“Honey, you know we’re worried.” Buttercup scowled, partly because of the stupid man (she'd later discover his name was Kevin but what did that matter?) but mostly because she didn’t like that she was making them worry.

“Professor, do you really think I have hallucinations and amnesia?”

The pause after her question was far too long for her liking. Buttercup wasn’t exactly the expert at reading others emotions based off their facial expressions but she didn’t need to be to know the Professor did believe she had that stuff.

“Well…” Buttercup sighed as her body fell back on the firm mattress. “Just please take the test. We want to make sure you’re alright. Besides, the sooner you show the doctors you’re fine the faster we can grab some delicious grub.”

He was doing his best to look as lighthearted as cold be, what with the way he plastered a ridiculous grin to his face as he flashed her two thumbs up. It was his attempt at looking ‘hip’. She let out another sigh and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t stay mad at him too long (again, he had that sort of charm). He was just worried, so all she had to do was prove the hospital wrong and get out of there as soon as possible.

Hours later around eight o’clock the door to the room opened again. Buttercup half expected it to be another doctor but when her gaze locked on a red cap she had to do her best to restrain herself from getting up and punching the face that wore it. She noticed as he walked in that Boomer was by his side. They both looked from the Professor to her.

“Bee, you’re awake!”

She wasn’t too shocked (except for the nickname, what was up with that?). Boomer was the friendliest of the three and while she never really interacted with him much she always did her best to respond to his greetings. Not for his sake but for Bubbles who would throw a mini fit if Buttercup ever ignored her counterpart.

“Sup.”

Both looked slightly bemused by her greeting, whereas Boomer seemed to mix that reaction up with some visible amusement as he repeated her words. Now she was the confused one. Was it really that weird that she said hi back? The Professor took that time to get up from his chair beside her bed and walk towards the boys. Buttercup watched, mystified, as the Professor pulled Brick into a short hug and fist-pumped Boomer; maybe she was having hallucinations. They left the room and closed the door behind them as Buttercup just...couldn’t stop gawking. The Professor never liked the Rowdyruff boys. He tolerated them the few times they saw each other because they were usually accompanied by Bubbles and Blossom. He never hugged them. Hugs were reserved for the girls, no one else.

When the door opened again it was just Brick with his hands in the pockets of his red sweater. It seemed that the Professor and Boomer had left together and, like the previous night, he took the seat closest to the door.

“What was up with that?” She had to know, the curiosity outweighing all other emotions she felt.

Brick stayed silent as his fingers continuously fumbled with the screen of his cellphone. She grit her teeth. Today, while not fully recovered, she could easily get out of the bed and walk to where he was. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but she did feel a small sense of triumph when she snatched the phone from his hands and saw the momentary look of disbelief in his eyes.

“As I was saying. What was up with that?”

“Up with what?”

“Don’t act dumb. Why’d the Professor hug you?” By then Brick snatched his phone back. She wasn’t exactly going to keep it hostage, it was just to make a point of paying attention and it had worked. He still kept his eyes on her (good) but the look of mild disbelief was there.

“Professor? Since when did you call dad Professor?”

“Dad?” She thought she questioned that in her head but seeing Brick roll his eyes she realized that was clearly a response to her confusion.

It seemed she lost Brick's interest and his phone had gained it once again. She didn’t know whether to slap the stupid device, slap him, or slap herself. Buttercup opted to slapping herself on the forehead. The fact that she once more thought the possible new villain of the block aka the lying doo doo head doctor might be right and she was suffering delusions or whatever made her want to scream. Losing all sense of reason to stand there she turned and walked back to her bed, relishing a little too much the feeling of the cushion sink with her weight. At least now she could keep resting and was far away enough from Brick that she could properly observe him. Unlike Bubbles he, Blossom, and from the bit she saw of Boomer all looked like they were the same age.

“How old are you?” 

“Seventeen.”

Okay, something really was wrong. They were all supposed to be sixteen but Bubbles looked like she was younger and Brick was a year older? The time travel theory seemed like a stretch, especially when she remembered the Professor said it was the same year she remembered it being. If she had time travelled they should be the same age regardless of the year. Right, science? (Right...ugh.)

“How old am I?”

“Sixteen.” Now he was actually looking at her and Buttercup wasn’t sure she really wanted that. Instead of looking through her like he had last night, he was looking at her like she was some sort of experiment or something. It was pretty uncomfortable.

It made her feel defensive.

“I don’t have amnesia, y’all are just wack. Why is Bubbles younger and you older? It doesn’t make sense. I’m probably just dreaming.” That had to be it. There was no way she was sitting in a hospital room with the red Rowdyruff contemplating her mental sanity. No way he was staring at her like that for a few seconds longer before going back to his phone. No way that, after about thirty minutes of silence where she had finally gotten comfortable and felt herself slowly lulling to sleep-

“Do you really think you have powers?” There was no way Brick was seriously asking that question.

Buttercup stared at the ceiling, debating if it even deserved an answer. Of course she had powers. By now she had enough strength that she could walk so it was likely she must have had enough to shoot a laser beam or float. Buttercup tried to do both but saw no hole and felt her weight still on the mattress. She had taken the IV off hours ago, practically had to beg the doctors to take it away. She was thankful the Professor was considerate enough to take the pleas in earnest and talk to the staff. Whatever he said worked and she knew that if the IV had been spiked with Antidote X she should have recovered a bit of her powers by now, at least enough where the residue of an attempt would show. Maybe she had too much in her system but she just couldn’t believe it.

Brick spent the rest of the night ignoring her and she did the same.

* * *

By the time Buttercup woke up the next morning she was alone with a few theories as to what was going on. The reasons of why were all different but for the time being she concluded that wherever it was it had to be another world where there were no Powerpuff Girls. Before the doctors came in to do the tests she confirmed this by asking Bubbles how many times the Hotline had rung while she was away. Bubbles paused and when she started asking what that meant Buttercup laughed and played it off by saying she had meant her cell phone.

Buttercup was ready when the doctor privately asked her about the monsters. She had no idea what they were talking about, or so she made it seem. Kevin (eww) didn’t even react as he jotted some notes down on a small white clipboard (super obnoxious, _Kevin_ ) and continued with the questions. By the end when he left (good riddance) she let herself do small victory fist-pump. She didn’t even need to overhear to find out the doctor told her family that her hallucinations had gone away but it seemed she still had amnesia. 

* * *

It took a lot longer than Buttercup liked, about three or four days, but she felt as good as new. What she really didn’t like was the sad realizations she discovered in her days at the hospital. Her family had been okay with her having amnesia and were helping in their own way by openly asking questions and letting her ask as many as she wanted. She hated lying to them but knew she had to until she could come up with a plan on how to get back to her normal life. Strategy was all Blossom's forte, not hers; Buttercup was surprised she had managed to deceive everyone so far. If Blossom was cognizant about what was happening in this messed up alternate reality would she have been proud of her strategic maneuvers? 

Buttercup turned her head to look behind her. Blossom met her gaze and offered her a small smile. She tried giving her own but felt the strain on her cheeks so she looked away and back at the hall ahead. Bubbles was walking next to her, their arms linked as she skipped with each step. It must have looked funny to the people in the halls who bothered to give them a glance. A small, blond ray of sunshine bopping to her own beat while her slightly taller, clearly exhausted sister was dragged through the motions. The big plastic bag the hospital provided to hold her belonging slipped and slide in Buttercup's free arm, mimicking Bubbles bounces. She wished she could laugh, talk to her sisters, and scream all at once. She _really_ wished she could punch something but when the elevator doors opened and they made their way to the outside world, Buttercup knew of all her wishes that one would be the toughest to grant.

The city looked normal with no signs of destruction. There were no monsters or villains to release her frustrations on. No matter how many times she looked at the sky and willed her body to fly, she stayed rooted to the ground. None of her powers worked.

“Hurry, hurry! If we don’t get to the van first we’ll have to sit in the back!” Bubbles screamed as she dragged Buttercup across the road to the open hospital parking area.

She did her best to run (tried to jump in a feeble attempt to fly a few times) but felt her body growing tired with each step. By the time they made it to the shiny silver van that was clearly the Professor's (the big atom logo on the side doors were kind of hard to miss) Buttercup just wanted to throw her bag inside and shake the spikes of pain off her tired arm- oh, and scream (again). Almost as though she could read her mind (or maybe she noticed the muscle spasms), Bubbles detached herself and yanked the van door open. Buttercup bit her lip to crush the off the charts urge to howl at the sight of all three Rowdyruff boys inside (oh, and Ms. Bellum was also there sitting on the passenger side but really what did that matter when THE BOYS WERE HAUNTING HER). 

“Get in, kiddos.” Out came Butch, all smug as he pulled his seat down so that they could get in the back. By then Blossom had caught up and, feeling no need to acknowledge the boys (how???), slipped into the seat at the furthest end. Bubbles followed after and sat in the middle. Buttercup stayed rooted to the spot staring her counterpart down. Part of it was because she hadn’t seen him in so long she wondered if he was okay, another part was because she wasn’t sure whether to feel slightly relieved that the only Rowdyruff she was somewhat comfortable with was there.

“What’s up, sis? You okay?” He looked concerned but all she could do was be shocked at the ‘sis’. She wanted to retort but everyone was staring at her so she just retreated to the only spot available in the back of the van.

“To Pete's!” Butch and Boomer hollered the minute the Professor buckled his seatbelt.


	2. yes, everything's the same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Brick is justifiably suspicious of Buttercup's mental state and begrudgingly assists her in learning about her life.

One punch.

Two punches.

A punch with both arms.

No matter how hard she tried Buttercup was far too slow and far too weak to land the hit. It was pitiful how easily Brick was able to dodged all the attacks. He decided he’d show a little of the pity he felt for her (which could be compared to a grain of salt) by using the palms of his hands to counter some of her attacks.

“Don’t stop.” She hissed as he took an extra step back and started to turn his body to leave.

Brick thought he humored her enough but it seemed she had an opposing opinion.

This time, for the first time since they started fighting -or, technically, since Buttercup started fighting, Brick decided to look straight at her. There was sweat on her forehead and long locks of loose hair sticking to the sides of her face at all angles. Even as her body shook with each pant of breath she wore a focused, enraged expression he never imagined she could ever make. It reminded him of an aggravated cat. He would have laughed if he cared enough. 

She was clearly exhausted so why did she want more?

“Fight me!” Buttercup screamed and, throwing any rationality behind (the little she had left), she lowered half of her body, stretched her arms out, and charged as though she thought she was some football player.

He simply stood his ground. He knew if this kept going on she would never leave him be.

“Don’t tell Blossom.”

He could tell from the look in Buttercup’s eyes that she could see he was lowering his fist. He did it partly to teach her a lesson, partly to get her to stop, a dash of wanting this to end, and a big factor of not being afraid to hit a person who clearly wished to cause him harm regardless of their gender. If she wasn’t ashamed then why should he be?

“Thank you.” She wheezed at the impact. Arms circled her stomach, body trembling as it instinctively curled into itself. Brick watched her fall and, knowing fully well if she told or if anyone found out he would be in huge trouble, decided one less shameless act wouldn’t be unwarranted. 

“Weirdo.”

**_\---3 days earlier---_ **

Brick didn’t need to be a psychologist or doctor to know Buttercup was going through a psychotic episode. Bubbles may have been the one who shared the great news that Buttercup had woken up but it was Blossom who made sure to fill him in on the details. Brick confirmed it the first night she had woken up from her ridiculous three day long fever, spouting (slightly amusing, but only slightly) nonsense about powers and beating him up. But, weirdly enough, after that night Buttercup dropped the talks. He thought she probably got over it but quickly came to realize she was putting on an act. 

Buttercup could fool everyone in the family with her diagnosis of temporary amnesia (she’d have to get a brain scan in a week if she still showed signs of staying the same) but Brick knew better. He also knew that Blossom and their father knew better but it seemed they were more hopeful as they let things slide. Him, not so easily. He could tell from observing Buttercup during her recovery how she seemed to squint her eyes for a little longer than necessary. When Bubbles had dragged her to the van after her release from the hospital, he could see through the window from his seat inside the van how Buttercup tried to 'skip' as she kept up with Bubbles. Anyone who saw that would think she was just doing it to catch up. To him it seemed like she was trying to fly away.

During the ride to Pete’s, as he blocked out Boomer and Butch’s excessive hollering ( **_“PIZZA. PIZZA. CRUSTY PETE’S PIZZA IS THE PIZZA FOR YOU AND ME!”_ **) Brick could see from his peripherals how Buttercup kept her eyes glued to the window, looking at the skies for a little too long. When they arrived and started unloading from the van he caught how Buttercup squeezed her fists when he, Boomer, and Butch (her own brother, mind you) walked close to her. When they sat at their reserved table, all talking about whatever came to their minds, he noticed how Buttercup seemed to try to pay a little too much attention to all the conversations. 

They were all together in this dimly lit dinner with the classic red furniture, celebrating her release from the hospital. It was rare they were even though it was summer, the only time they could all be together because they were all growing up and living their own lives. Buttercup always made it her mission to point it out whenever it happened; she wasn’t doing that. Even through this ‘happy’ time where Buttercup was smiling and laughing along when it was appropriate and responding to the best of her abilities, the smile never stretched as far as it normally would. 

Of course no one noticed he was watching her. He prided himself on his keen observation skill and inability to be caught. It was one of the many reasons he was smarter than most people his age. He would stay in the shadows and just go along with the motions like everyone else. At least that was the plan until he watched her eat only half her pizza before saying she really needed to go to the bathroom. She never left a half finished pizza on her plate, didn’t they all know that? Of course they did, they were just too distracted from the relief that she was even alive and acting ‘normal’ to process that something was wrong. 

“I’ll go keep an eye on her.” He muttered as he got up and followed. He knew if he didn’t that Bubbles or Blossom would eventually follow and while that may have been the better bet, he figured he’d spare them the suffering and let them stay in their happy high with the family. 

He found that Buttercup somehow slid out of the shop and walked around to the dimly lit alley where the restaurant threw out their trash. He watched her as she jumped up and down near one of the dumpsters near the wall of the restaurant. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to jump to grab the ladder of the fire escape or if she was trying to fly again. 

His psychosis diagnosis was being proven before his eyes.

Brick knew the reasons why he even bothered to keep tabs over her, ranked in order from most to least important:

  1. He didn’t want his parents or siblings to worry.
  2. He didn’t want to deal with the depression everyone went through while she was in the hospital.
  3. She wasn’t endangering herself or those around her and he feared that might change if he stopped paying attention.



Buttercup didn’t seem to hear Brick even as he walked closer. She kept trying to jump while her jumps became visibly weaker with each attempt.

“Trying to fly?” 

She wiped around at that, eyes wide, stance like a fighter. If he didn’t know any better he’d actually believe she could put up a fight- but he did know better. She was just a normal girl.

“What are yo-Never mind, I don’t have anything to say to you.” She kept glaring at him, clearly exasperated from whatever she was feeling and those inconsistent jumps. He imagined it was her wordless way of telling him to leave but he stayed in place. She threw a punch his way and while he could have easily dodged he decided to stand his ground. She sighed, resigned, when she saw he didn’t even flinch at the contact to his chest.

None of her actions surprised Brick as much as her high-pitched scream when a strong wind blew past them. He reflexively pinched the visor of his cap down as his body tensed before remembering where they were. No one could hear her scream from here, which was a creepy thought but reassuring nonetheless because he didn’t want to have to explain to strangers that he hadn’t done anything and his clearly delusional stepsister was going through a mental breakdown. So Brick did what any reasonable human being would do, he took a few steps back and prepared a list of all possible escape routes in his mind.

As Buttercup grabbed some of the flying chunks of her hair and pulled them down, all those articles he read up on as she slept ignorantly in her hospital bed filtered through his mind. Her every action solidified the fact she was disconnected from reality.

“What is wrong with this world!? I can’t fly, I can’t use my powers, you’re here, and I have this ridiculously long hair. I _HATE_ it.” 

_Yup, definitely delusional._

He decided as he teetered on the fine line of retreat to continue observing her (seemed safe enough for now). After the raven-haired lunatic released the rest of her elongated yell she reduced the space between herself and the green dumpster, punched it, and screamed once again as she rubbed her likely bruising fist. As if that wasn’t enough of a lesson she kicked the scrap of metal, screamed _again_ , and fell backwards on the ground. All seriousness aside he had to admit the view was pretty hilarious but opted out on sharing his amusement to whip out his phone and look at the time. They had been gone from the table for about ten minutes.

“You done yet?”

Buttercup must have forgotten that he was there, what with the way she stopped grumbling from the ground and stood up. She didn’t even bother to brush the dirt off her clothes or fix the ruffled mess that was her rat nest of hair.

“No I’m not! I’m going to fight you.”

Brick sighed and turned around. With the way she was acting he was sure she’d follow him and, sure enough, she did just that as she continued to grumble about beating him up. He noted as they reached the front door of the pizzeria how quickly he was adapting to this drastic change in her personality. Maybe it was the amusement of it all or the fact that her insanity might just be contagious (he knew that wasn’t true but thought it regardless).

“Name the time and place.”

Brick didn’t have to look back to know she was beaming with joy at his acceptance of her challenge. By the time it seemed she had formulated an answer they had already returned to the table.

“Buttercup, why is your hair such a mess?” Mother chastised as she got up from her seat and walked to Buttercup’s side of the table. He noticed how uncomfortable Buttercup seemed to be when his mother, the ever prepared type, pulled out a portable brush from her purse and started brushing the dirty locks. Bubbles and Blossom patted the dirt off of either side of her back. It was comical how cramped she seemed to be by the personal entourage fixing her up. Of course he didn’t let the amusement show as he settled back into eating his cold slice of pizza and talking to the boys. 

**_\---Current time---_ **

Brick didn’t expect, didn’t even notice, that Buttercup crawled far enough from her spot of defeat on the ground that she reached and grabbed a handful of the cuff of his pants.

“Wait. I…” Buttercup swallowed. Maybe he had gone a little too far with that punch but she had asked for it and Brick wasn’t one to back off unless he deemed it better to do so.

Call it sympathy or whatever (probably should be called saving himself the trouble) but he turned around and scooped her into his arms. Brick didn’t know how long it would take her to regain her composure so he figured it would be best to take her out of their garage and to the privacy of her bedroom, lest their parents come back home and find her still collapsed on the ground. He was thankful once more no one was home. Then again, if someone had stayed he imagined Buttercup wouldn’t have barged into his bedroom and demand they fight inside the garage. It was the first time she had even spoken to him since the pizza parlor incident.

He wasted no time in throwing Buttercup on her bed. She grunted but surprisingly shook her body around the obnoxious yellow monstrosity she called bedsheets until she found a position she could use to pull herself up. Eventually she found her way and leaned her back on her bedpost. Brick could tell Buttercup was struggling to speak again but this time he wasn’t going to wait it out. He slammed the door behind him.

He didn’t expect her to be leaning on his door frame around half an hour later, ice pack on her stomach. 

“This is driving me nuts.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she was insinuating but he was more curious about why she was bringing this up to him of all people. It wasn’t like they were exactly close. Yes they were technically siblings and lived under the same roof but that didn’t mean they got along or really associated with each other. He only really spoke to Butch or Blossom and she spoke to anyone else but him.

“You’re the one I’ve slipped up the most in front of and at least in my world you’re the biggest brains next to Bloss, so you probably get it. I don’t know how but in this world. Ugh, there’s too much. I’ll just start with what’s been eating at me. Is the Professor your dad?”

So it seemed she was dropping the amnesia act. After Pete's she'd been mostly quiet. She’d ask questions he imagined she thought were safe like where her room was, her stuff in the bathroom, and other real simple questions but he knew she had no memories whatsoever and it seemed she tried to keep that a secret. He noticed it, the way her gaze lingered whenever their father and mother interacted and the way she’d look at Blossom and Bubbles when they were together as if something was off. One time he passed by her slightly open bedroom door and caught sight of the disaster her room had become, as though someone came and ransacked the place. Buttercup always kept her room clean. She was probably trying to piece the things most people would be worried about not knowing together in secret.

“You keep calling him dad so he must be and you keep calling Ms. Bellum mom so she’s your mom, right? But Blossom and Bubbles have also been calling her that so are we all related? Is the Professor married to Ms. Bellum?”

He was surprised that of all the things she was able to remember his mother's maiden name but ignore that as he turned his sights to his slick black work desk. He always kept an open notebook with a pen clipped to the top. It was easy access for if he ever needed to jot down a reminder. He has tuned her out and barely heard the rest of her droning as he scribble the words down and yank the sheet out, didn’t even bother to look at her when he got up and placed a perfect diagram of what he knew on her lap.

Buttercup stared at the paper a little longer than necessary in his opinion. It wasn’t like she needed to decipher his handwriting, teachers always complimented him on it. Brick imagined she was probably trying to process it all. From what she let out it seemed she thought she was from another world and this one was completely different from where she lived. It was funny because that sounded like the overused plot of some ridiculous drama except in reverse. Didn’t characters who usually traveled to another world know somewhat about it? 

“So...are you supposed to be Ms. Bellum’s son from another marriage while Blossom is their kid? And that means we’re stepsibs and Butch is my brother???”

He was getting increasingly tired of all the questions.

“And...and….” She clutched the paper firmly in her hands. “Ima Goodlady is my mom!?”

She looked horrified. Maybe she was remembering. He didn’t know how exactly Buttercup felt about her mother but he couldn’t imagine her, being the sunshine and rainbows dream child she was, would like remembering that her mother was a convict. Of course he didn’t care or pry too much into it, especially when his parents almost never mentioned the woman.

“Does that mean my last name is Goodlady?”

“It’s Utonium.” He finally spoke up. He really wasn’t a fan of it but he had a feeling if he kept quiet for longer she’d form another fit to get the words out of him. It wasn’t like she could do any damage- well, she had a wickedly powerful screech. 

The psycho let out a big sigh of relief.

Even though Brick had no reason to do it he decided to speak up again. If she was going to keep spewing nonsense and try to blend in then he had every right to try and correct at least one part of her act. Not for her sake but for the sake of his family who was worried sick about her.

“You should stop calling him the Professor and stop calling mom Ms.Bellum. They’re mom and dad. You call them that too.”

“Is he not a professor?”

“He is but that doesn’t mean it’s normal for his daughter to call him that.”

“But I’ve always called him that!”

And dad was okay with it? That’s what strangers called him, not family. It was like calling his mother secretary. That didn’t sit right with Brick but he decided going with the topic was pointless so he shrugged and took his phone out of his pocket. It was only half past two and he knew that it would only be about another hour before mom, dad, and Blossom returned from their errand trips. Bubbles and Butch likely wouldn’t come home till night time since they were both at friends houses. He didn’t think he’d ever wish they would come home sooner but he did, just to get the deranged teen to shut up.

It seemed that at some point Buttercup realized he was blocking her out (how many times would he have to do it for her to take the hint?) and stopped talking. He thought she might have left as he opened up his texts to see if maybe he was in the mood to respond to another one of Boomer's wack random message but when he turned in his chair to stretch his legs out he saw that she indeed was still there and was wrinkling up his neatly made bed. If there were two of many things he disliked it was people sitting on his bed and people he observed recently had no problem sitting on the dirty floor even when there were perfectly usable chairs nearby sitting on his bed.

Buttercup was slouching, her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped together. She rested her chin on them in what he noticed was the look most movie actors did when they were trying to portray their characters as deep in thought. Brick decided that look was no good on her long before she opened her mouth to mumble under her breath the words he never imagined she’d say.

“I can’t keep living this lie and I _really_ can’t believe I’m doing this but-'' Cue an unnecessarily exaggerated deep breath. “I need your help. I can’t do this on my own.” He imagined she really hated herself for what she said, what with the way she scrunched her eyebrows and just looked like she was majorly constipated.

Brick had questions, lots of them, maybe even more than she had for him- but he wasn’t the talker of the house. As much as his curiosity was sparked he would not allow it to get the better of him. For all he knew (he did know, his mind just decided to humor the thought for a little bit that the situation could somehow be different) Buttercup was mentally ill or worse, playing a stupid prank of him. It was plausible considering Butch could convince her of so much when they were kids he could likely convince her to participate in a prank. He pushed the idea aside when he remembered this ‘prank’ also affected everyone else in the house. He knew Butch was stupid but he would never do something he knew could harm the family and neither would Buttercup.

It seemed the silence really was starting to grate on her nerves. It also seemed like Buttercup had really lost most of her common sense too as she decided the way to get his attention and quell her frustration was to get up from the bed, ice pack discarded on the sheets, and put him in a chokehold- if he could even call it that. She had her arms around his neck in the right posture but her squeeze was light and he knew even if she put her max strength into the grip he could easily rip free of her clutches and reverse the situation.

“This isn’t exactly the best way to ask for help.” He’d never say aloud.

It only took a few seconds for her to sigh and let him go. Brick thought she’d take this chance to finally leave as she should have a while ago. Instead she decided to swerve his seat around so he was facing her, or rather, looking up at her because he liked having his office chair on the lowest height setting and his bed had long support beams.

“I don’t know how different things are here but if you’re anything like the Brick from my world I know you’re an absolute jerk to your family but deep down you care and do what you have to do to protect them. So if we’re really family in this world I’ll place my bets on that. Not for me but for ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ and I guess Blossom too.”

He sighed. Of course she had to remind him of their family- his family. He didn’t think she’d use them as leverage but there she was, keeping her gaze locked on him for what he assumed was to emphasize her seriousness. Well...at least he’d be getting an interesting story out of this.

“Ok.”

They spent the last hour catching each other up on two different lives. He did his best to answer all of Buttercup’s questions, the ones she never dared to ask their family. He even had to help reset her computer password. It turned out she didn’t even use the same passwords that she would use in her make believe fantasy land. He learned that from her grumbles as well as that he, Butch, and Boomer in her world had powers. They apparently called themselves the Rowdyruff boys and were one of the many nemesis her, Blossom, and Bubbles faced. He didn’t get to hear much else because by the time she was going into detail about how the girls figured out how to defeat them the sound of dads shoes echoed inside the empty house.


	3. there's just so much i don't get (September)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension's in the air but Buttercup does her best to get used to her new skin.

It was a calm, uneventful Saturday morning in the Utonium household. Roughly two weeks passed since Buttercup's release, with only a handful of those days requiring her to visit that whitewashed torture chamber for things like getting a brain scan and taking tests to check on the status of her amnesia. She hated it but what with the doctors mandating it and the Professor constantly reminding her the importance of maintaining her good health (and worry _this_ , worry _that_ . Worry, _worry,_ **_worryyy_ **) she had no choice. 

Buttercup decided after the embarrassing fiasco with the Pete’s Pizza dumpster that no matter what happened she would do her best to stay cool and blend in, keeping her past a secret from everyone. She’d try to find a way back home on her own. She hated that she couldn’t trust her family but with the looks she got the first few days and the extent they went to make sure she’d 'recover', Buttercup couldn’t imagine what would happen if she told them the truth about their Powerpuff lives. So she laid low, asked simple questions, and after the third hospital visit she overheard stupid Kevin tell the Professor that the odds of her recovery seemed higher.

“Does anyone want snacks?” 

Buttercup couldn’t see from her spot on the livingroom sofa, what with Butch obstructing her vision with his annoyingly ripped body (what? Did she have to like muscles? Not like she hated them but they _were_ in her way) but she was able to lean enough into the faux-leather cushion to make out Ms. Bellum's spot in the kitchen. Her outstretched arms disappeared behind an open cupboard door. It seemed she was aiming for something but couldn’t quite reach, which was funny considering she was the tallest woman Buttercup knew. Brick popped up behind her with a spatula, it disappeared and reappeared with a bag of flour.

“I want some nachos!” Butch hollered. 

They both were sitting on the opposite ends of the red, three seater sofa with Buttercup using the armrest as lower back support. A football game was playing on the flat screen and, while not too concerned with the scoring of the game, she felt herself relating a lot to the gameplay. The ball was the answers to how to blend in, the offense team running away with it was this world and all the stupid scenarios it made her live with. The defense team that tried their best but stumbled over each other was her horrible attempts at being ‘normal’ (whatever that was) and the feeling that she still had so much to learn and too little time to do it. The biggest spikes of the sensation occurred when Bubbles went on sporadic tangents on how excited she was to go back to school, how she couldn’t wait to see her friends ("but of course I’m going to miss seeing everyone in the house! I can’t wait till next year when we can all go to school together!").

“Ooo, can we have some pizza bagels!?” Bubbles squealed from her spot by the window. She swung back and forth in her small, beige rocking chair with a blue cushion tied to it by a shiny silver ribbon. Buttercup quickly learned that she spent most of her time in that place. How Bubbles never got uncomfortable she couldn’t figure out. Nothing beat stretching her legs out on the reclining sofa.

“I’ll make both.”

She could hear Bubbles little 'yay' and saw Butch's small fist pump from the corner of her eye.

She hated to admit it but out of the six people she was forced to live with (still couldn’t believe she had ‘brothers’), the only one who reacted the most calmly to her slips-ups was Brick. He even accepted her fight, which she came to the crushing realization wasn’t normal. The day after the incident she approached Butch and asked him to spar with her like they would usually do in the past. He laughed at her, ruffled her (annoyingly) long hair, and told her “the Butch doesn’t fight girls, especially his sweet lil’ sis". She had to use all she had in her to not gag in front of him.

Remembering made her want to gag.

Buttercup wasn’t too happy with a lot of what she learned. With the help of Brick she discovered her passwords sounded like the silly insiders Bubbles would use. No matter where she searched, where she pressed her hands, there was no secret passageway leading to the Professor’s laboratory. As if that wasn’t bad enough her desktop background was a really stretched out black and white image of her and a group of around twenty girls- she quickly connected the dots when the Professor asked at the dinner table if she was looking forward to some dance team auditions in school.

As she watched one of the offense players (number 44) land a touchdown for his team, which Butch was at his feet cheering on, all Buttercup could think of was how she hated that her life was so drastically different here. Not only was she weak and powerless but she was also a dancer who was super polite, never could hurt a fly (everyone was spooked by the fact she was the one to kill the roach Bubbles spotted inside the kitchen a few hours ago), and, worst of all, was shy. Apparently when she made conversations at the dinner table or spoke up whenever Butch made some stupid joke (like he always did, the buffoon), half the table would eye her skeptically while the rest laughed it off.

“Would you like a pizza bagel?” She didn’t even realize Ms. Bellum was holding the plate of cheese and pepperoni bagel bites in front of her.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks...” Being able to see those expectant bright red eyes peeking out through messy curls felt like a slap-in-the-face reminder. ( ** _“They’re mom and dad. You call them that too.”)._ ** “Mom.”

Ms. Bellum kept her smile on, the corners stretching a little higher as Buttercup snatched two pieces out of the plate. The bagel bites were still pretty warm but Buttercup didn’t care as she popped one into her mouth and turned her head to see Brick give Butch his plate of nachos. Of course she had no shame in snatching a nacho and popping it into her already bagel stuffed mouth (it helped ease the nerves). Butch looked absolutely appalled to see her chewing with her mouth open while Brick just rolled his eyes and walked away. She snickered. Sure it wasn’t ‘proper’ of their Buttercup to do but she couldn’t resist messing with Butch, especially when-

“Back off, they’re _my_ nachos. Ask mom to make your own batch.” Ah, there it was, him defensively holding the bowl close to his face as though it were some precious child he was trying to protect.

Buttercup swallowed and leaned forward once more to grab another big chip, making sure the cheese didn’t fall out as she popped the entire piece into her mouth. He gasped, surely big enough to echo across the house. It was quickly replaced with the sound of Bubbles giggles. Light green eyes grinned, dark green glared. It only took about three seconds for her to register the ‘splat’ and look down to see the second bagel bite (how could she forget) she had been holding fallen, face first, on her long grey skirt. Her scowl deepened when she looked up to see Butch was giving her a sly grin that screamed ‘serves you right’. Didn’t stop Buttercup from picking up the fallen treat and plopping it in her mouth. Butch made a face like he was disgusted but she knew it was all for show. She rolled her eyes, punched his arm, and got up. As much as she didn’t care if her clothes were dirty or not she was conditioned to change or try to clean up whenever something like this happened (too many consequences from not doing so in the past). 

She truly felt the cruelty of this world whenever she was in her room rummaging through her wardrobe. It was filled with skirts long and short, only two pairs of pants, and a _lot_ of pastels. She really didn’t think this world was being kind to her. If anything Buttercup thought this world was trying to make her into a hybrid of her sisters. She sighed, resigned, as she yanked the pair of light blue jeans out of the hanger and changed into them. Thoughts of frills and turtlenecks haunted Buttercup as she sped down the staircase. She could see the TV was off and Butch was standing by the door talking on his phone. Brick was standing next to him talking to Ms. Bellum, car keys in hand.

“We’ll be at the mall in about twenty minutes. Bye.”

It was like a heavenly chime.

“Can I go with?” It was tough to walk up to them and ask the question so casually. It would have been easier if she was back home. She could have just flown to the mall alone or maybe even with her sisters and done what she wanted. Actually, she wouldn’t even need to do any of this if she was home.

Buttercup swallowed the bitter taste of those reminders. 

“Wha. No way, sis. It’s bros ti-” It didn’t take much strength (only because he wasn't expecting it) to open the door and push him out of it. It was faster to spin the lock.

“So can I go?” She smiled up at Brick. Even if she had to pretend to be sweet (which still made her stomach churn) she’d do it. She’d do anything to add some variety to that cramped vanity. 

“No.”

It took all she had to not punch him in the face then and there. 

_One breath. Two breaths._

She grabbed the collar of his fire hydrant red sweater and pulled, only to find that he remained rooted in place (of course he would be prepared for that. _Of course_ ). Another breath and she tip-toed to get as close to his ear as she could manage.

“ _Please_ take me out. I need to buy something different or I’m going to scream.” She practically hissed under her breath. 

They were watching, she could feel it, but Buttercup couldn’t bring herself to think about Ms. Bellum or Bubbles reactions lest she lose face. While this clearly was ridiculous and would blow her cover, she needed it. She was tired of looking in the mirror and practically seeing a stranger who just had the same face and body type.

“Ask Blossom or Bubbles.” (At least he was respectful enough to whisper back).

“I just wanna grab n' go.” That and she’d never admit just how uncomfortable being her sisters felt. She was still coping with seeing Bubbles look so young, and Blossom? She was almost never around. It made Buttercup wonder what it would be like when they went back to school. Would she see her more then?

It took a few faint pleas and the offer of some cash for him to finally agree. It was a hushed, quick transaction that her toes thanked her for as she released the strain they developed from holding her up. She felt bad for the other Buttercup the day she found a one hundred dollar bill inside her bottom dresser drawer. She’d make up for it at some point. It was for a good cause. Speaking of, she readied herself to dash to the car when-

“Stay right there, both of you. I’ll be back.” True to her word, it was as though Ms. Bellum hadn’t really left when she returned holding- (oh no).

“Here. It’s not much but hopefully enough for both of you to enjoy the mall.” Her right hand extended towards Buttercup, the left reaching for Brick. One each palm rested a single Franklin. “Just don’t tell Butch.”

She sucked in a breath of air, readying herself to tell Ms. Bellum it was alright. She had savings (that were technically- questionably hers). She didn’t need the money but thanks anyway when-

“I got it covered.” She didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that Brick was denying free money or that he was insinuating he would also cover her bill. 

“Sweet pea, please. I know you can take care of yourself but it’s my treat. Please take it.”

It really was a sight to behold. Seeing a 6’0 woman looking down at her 5’10 ‘son’ (still weird), them clearly having some sort of gaze off but Ms. Bellum’s hair basically obstructed her eyes (made Buttercup wonder how he could actually look ‘mom’ straight in the eye). It seemed to stretch on forever but she knew it was only a few seconds when Brick visibly deflated, muttering an 'okay' under his breath as he took the bill from Ms. Bellum’s still outstretched hand. 

A sight to behold indeed.

Brick unlocked and escaped through the front door as Ms. Bellum pushed the Franklin meant for her closer. Swallowing a sigh, Buttercup took the bill and muttered a small thanks as she turned her body and dashed out the open door. She didn’t look back, hearing the click of the lock as she dashed towards the parked 2008 honda civic (in red, _of course._ Loser). She knew Butch would scream at her if she sat at the passengers side (he was oddly possessive of that spot, even in her own world) so she yanked the back door open and took her seat.

The roar of the engine could barely be heard over the shuffling of fabric as Butch tried to get comfy in his seat. They just stayed inside this unmoving car, waiting for the engine to warm up (because of course Brick had to be extra safe for his ‘baby’ -bleh). Buttercup’s thoughts kept going back to the Franklin in her hand and the red head’s stare off. 

The guilt of taking the weightless bill she shoved into her small back pocket (why buy pants with no front pockets?) felt like a brick (hahaha...she hated herself too much). She physically tried to shake the thoughts from her head, hating the strands of hair that smacked her face and got stuck on her lips. She picked the pieces in frustration as her mind settled back into a particular moment. That one, small instance of a gentle voice uttering such kindness it still left her reeling it was real. All the negativity she was becoming too used to festering inside just seeped away as she brought her hands down and rested them on her lap. When she looked up she saw those too bright red eyes looking through her, staring out the window behind her as he started backing out of the driveway.

Buttercup knew he likely noticed the change in mood and wouldn’t dare ask what was going on. She didn't need to be as 'smart' as him or Blossom to tell the dude was hypersensitive to changes. She was sure that Brick, being oh so smart, might have caught on. Taking this rare chance she muttered the words while his arm was still over the head of his seat, his ear just close enough that he would be able to hear her over the boom of music playing on the radio. 

“Sweet pea.”

It was a miracle his freckled neck didn't snap from the force of turning back to the wheel. She couldn’t tell if Brick heard her, he was too good at masking his reactions, but she knew deep inside that he did. That’s what made one of the many chuckles she tried to push down slip out. Butch, the ever clueless fool, seemed to catch nothing as he slipped on his headphones and rested his forehead on the window. 

She was thankful for the quiet ride, thankful she didn’t have to even bother with idle chit chat because, oh no, doing that with the family was already awkward enough that she did not need nor want to engage with two of three Rowdyruff boys. She was thankful Boomer was not part of this picture because he was the one who would most likely bother with the stuff. Now that she thought about it, where was he? _Oh_ , there he was, standing by the area where the parking garage ended and the hallway to the entrance of the second floor of the mall began.

As Brick pulled into an empty parking spot (he had to have some luck since he managed to get the spot closest to that hallway where Boomer was waiting, leaning against the wall popping some bubblegum). She spared no time in unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door as soon as the car was parked. There were three different scenarios playing in her head about how to face the situation at hand:

  * Play along and spend some time with the Rowdyruffs at the mall.
  * Awkwardly excuse herself when they were all together.
  * Run for her life and find them when her shopping was done with.



There was no need to debate the options when she shut the door behind her. Buttercup crouched on the ground near the bumper, both palms on the dusty concrete, her left knee near her chest while her right leg was stretched behind her. She took a deep breath as she heard the stomp of Butch’s feet hitting the ground.

“What are yo-”

She ran, sprinting past Butch and barely caught sight of Boomer’s latest bubble pop as she flew past him and down the hallway. She only managed to turn to the right side before all of her stamina drastically deplete. Buttercup’s breath was erratic but she did her best to control it and keep the oxygen flowing as she dashed into the nearest shop. Call her crazy for retreating to the wall at the end of the shop, far away from the open windows, but it sure beat the other two options.

After what felt like a minute of catching her breath and glaring at the nearby employee ( _you better not say or do a thing, **got it!?**_ ) who seemed stupefied by her less than glamorous entrance. Once she felt her breath steady she turned her attention to the white blouses and pants lined up on the wall. Surprisingly enough for being an escape route the shop had a pretty good variety of clothes. Buttercup didn’t feel like she needed to check the other stores when she ventured to the opposite side and found clothes that were more to her taste. Words could not describe the comfort, relief, and over all joy brimming inside her at the sight of various shades of black. She grabbed a crop top that was folded nearly on top of one of those t-shirt tables and, no sense of shame whatsoever, hugged the piece of fabric. She didn’t need to try it on to know this was going home. Fifteen more minutes of browsing and putting clothes in front of her later, after staring in the mirror and seeing a more familiar image, she dashed to the shoe section and skimmed her options until she managed to find a pair of boots that just screamed 'take me'.

Buttercup confidently walked up to the register and laid the collection of treasures on the counter. When the lady asked her how her experience was she didn’t even register “best time ever” left her lips till the unexpected pleasant surprise smile practically blinded her. She normally wouldn't say that about shopping, _ever_ , but this world was topsy-turvy and made the craziest of things happen. In an effort to sheld her still burning eyes she looked down past the glass at the collection of jewelry the cashier was in charge of. When her eyes landed on a familiar piece she hastily requested it be added it to the order.

“Your total will be eighty six dollars and sixty four cents. Would you like a receipt?”

She just nodded as the cashier threw the receipt into one of the two bags, grabbed them from her, and did her best to mask the overflowing sense of bliss (probably failed at it what with the extra dose of cheer on the cashiers face) as she gave her a short “thank you”.

Only when the store was a blurry spot in the distance did she allow herself to do a little spin and hug the two bags close to her chest. The white plastic felt smooth on her skin and gave her a newfound sense of hope. No more pastels, no more frills, finally, **_finally_** , some variety in that stupidly small wardrobe. But the feeling was short-lived as the large clock on a tall stand nearby told her she spent nearly an hour by herself. It was what reminded her that she had no idea where her ‘brothers’ ( _barf_ ) were.

She sighed as she took her phone out. She almost never used the thing even in her own world but hoped with all her might if they were ‘family’ that one of them would be in the B section of the contacts list. It seemed today was becoming arguably the best day ever since waking up when she saw Brick's name (ironically wedged between Blossom and Bubbles). She debated for a moment if she ought to call but remembering his lack of conversation skills (and, technically, hers too) decided texting would be the best option.

Brick  
  
wanna grab some grub?  
  


She was hungry so she offered lunch for her own sake. It definitely wasn’t because she felt slightly bad for ditching them. No, why should she? They probably would have ditched her- okay, no, maybe Brick would of but knowing Butch and Boomer they might have tried to include her and...was she just the awkward one? No! That was Brick too an-

Brick  
  
wanna grab some grub?  
  
No  
  


Her hands trembled as the grip on her phone increased. All the mushy-gushy, girly, silly, _stupid_ feelings she felt got tossed in the trash can next to the escalator. Now? She was on a mission. She’d find him, and when she did she’d...wait. _Wait_. Why in the world was she getting mad over Brick denying her kind gesture? It was a Rowdyruff boy! This wasn’t anything new. Ugh...Now she just felt stupid for thinking in her happy high that it was a good idea. Forget even trying to be civil. Instead, she decided the easiest thing to do would be to wait by car.

Of course, when she reached the car, _of course_ the fates would make the last shred of joy she’d been clinging to shrivel up. She saw through the car window that, lo and behold, Brick was seated at the drivers side tapping away on his phone. Buttercup didn't even bother questioning it as she walked around and tapped his window. Her nerves flared at the gradual rise of his head from his phone, boiled as he squinted to see her through his tinted window. She wasted no time in waving her index finger up and down, gesturing him to lower the glass. He (luckily for him) decided to comply.

“What?”

“What are you doing here?” Why did she care?

His gaze travelled to the bags of clothes in her arms. Could he...oh, she didn’t know, not be so infuriatingly obnoxious and blatantly ignore her question? She may not exactly understand her emotions all the time but felt pretty confident then and there that she did indeed _not care_ about the stupid red cap wearing idiot. In fact, she was positive that what she felt when Brick acted this way was the irresistible urge to knock his teeth out, rip his tongue out, shove it where the sun don't shine, and chew him out for his clear lack of respect of...well, _everything._ But then she saw his hand reach for the handle and instinctively scooted to the side as he opened the car door, got out, and snatched the shopping bags from her grip. He scooted past her and opened the back seat, dropping them inside before closing the door again. “I want some Chinese food” were the only words he said as he walked towards the mall.

Now she was gawking. Did he...No, she was not going to think about this lest she blow another fuze in the middle of the grey and white lot. Buttercup released all her emotions into one, big sigh as she speed walked and caught up to Brick. True to his words, they went down the escalator all the way to the food court. He guided her to the end of the line of a bright yellow and brown stand called “Kuíhuā Kitchen”. It didn’t take long for them to reach the front and for Brick to tell the cashier his order as the guy next to him went about scooping his choices into a styrofoam to-go tray. She almost forgot she was supposed to do the same until the cashier flashed her an utterly unenthused gaze. It really complemented the bags under his eyes.

“Orange chicken please.” She managed to spit out when she looked at the menu above his head and realized none of the other food deals seemed appealing.

“Just that? No meal?”

“Just that.” 

He pressed the buttons on his register and muttered a “thirteen sixty five” as Brick grabbed their orders from the server. She fumbled with her wallet, managed to draw out the cash and register a sense of relief at having just enough leftover money to be able to pay as she handed the exact change to the guy. He ripped the receipt out of the printer and just as quickly she yanked it out of his hand and walked away. 

Buttercup looked around, not quite sure which side of the beige and orange themed food court to go to as Brick walked past her towards the left side (at least he knew what he wanted). They managed to secure a recently cleaned table (thank you mall for having a good enough custodial staff that made sure the tables were cleaned minutes after shoppers left) within walking distance to the men’s restroom. Brick said nothing as he opened his container and (when did he get chopsticks?) picked up a piece of what she assumed might have been beef. It felt so surreal being with him. Not only because Buttercup was constantly weirded out by the fact she seemed to be spending more time with him than with her own sisters, mainly it was the fact that he was just an odd person. He always ignored her and made it seem like her entire existence was a big thorn on his side when it should have been the other way around. At least that's how it had been, once upon another time. She watched Brick chew another bite of his food as his free hand extended a pair of chopsticks to her. She thought as she grabbed them and ripped the paper off the top that maybe, just maybe, with all that in mind he might….possibly...care about her? Not like the kind of care he seemed to feel for Ms. Bellum, or the kind of care you’d feel with good friends, but the type of care she could only think to compare to (oh was she going to hate herself more for letting this thought run its course) taking care of some flower or plant. Where unless you’re enthusiastic about it you typically just forget it exists until you randomly remember it needs water to survive. This was one of those times he was watering it, like when he followed her out of Pete’s or answered her questions that she was too scared to ask others. (Yeah she hated this train of thought).

It was super weird to think and it certainly wasn’t an excuse to forgive his rudeness, but it was such an absurdly silly and, somehow, logical thought. She couldn’t help but crack a smile as she picked up a piece of orange chicken and leaned forward to take a bite. Her hair danced with the movement, a few of the strands stuck themselves on the glaze that was so close to being tasted. She glared at them, wishing so badly she had her laser vision so she could burn it to the ground. Instead she let the chicken fall back on the tray, not bothering to grab a napkin to clean the sauce off. 

“You must really hate your hair. Was it another color?”

She scoffed, rolled her eyes as she leaned forward.

“No. It’s just so long.” It made her feel like Blossom and it was super uncomfortable to do anything with. “I just want to cut it all off like how it used to be.”

She sighed again, reached for discarded treat and this time, instead of leaning in, she brought the piece to her mouth with a satisfying plop. The amount of ginger was just right. The outer fried layer was perfectly crisp. It took her a moment to hear the sound of paper rustling on the table. When she looked down she saw the Franklin that Ms. Bellum had given Brick looking impassively up at her.

“I said I was payin’.” She slid it back.

He slid it forward.

This back and forth continued only three more turns before Buttercup hissed and shoved the bill in her back pocket (again, stupid pants). Brick kept his eyes closed, his free hand rested on his cheek as he pointed in a direction she couldn’t quite tell with his chopsticks (man did she miss her super vision). When he opened one eye and noticed she was glaring at him instead of wherever he was trying to indicate, he opened and rolled his own in return. They ate in silence until he finished his tray, she emptied hers a few minutes after. Then, without a need to say so, both stood and threw their empty trays at the nearest trash can. Buttercup half-expected them to walk back to the car but for some reason (he really was too difficult to understand) Brick grabbed her wrist and dragged her towards the escalators. She tried to resist but it didn’t work. She was sure he could feel the punches on his back and when that had no effect she started jumping and wrapped her arm around his neck like some crippled koala. Brick almost lost his balance but luckily (for him, not her) he managed to grab the rail of the escalator. When they reached the second floor he released her wrist and she let go of his neck. People walked around them, eying them up and down before deciding to move on with their lives.

“Hair salons on the third floor.”

It's a good thing they were inside a mall and not outdoors where a fly could have easily land inside her gaping mouth. Buttercup stood there for a few seconds, questions swirling in her head as her body on autopilot followed Brick up and all the way to the bright red "Runway Hair & Nails" sign with a scissor and nail polish bottle tilted together to look like an X mark. It held her attention for only a second before her focus turned to the glass railing that looked over the bottom two floors. She didn't even think to ask Brick to accompany her because why should he? Salons were a bore (too many hours spent dying of boredom as Blossom got her hair trimmed). She still felt unsure of herself as the receptionist asked if she was doing a walk in or appointment. Even when the lady guided her to one of the last seats at the end of the monochrome themed salon with its sprinkles of red, like the black and white art of some "stylish" lady with brick red lips (was this just style of the salon or the universe's fifteen thousand attempt to weird her out?).

It felt like a routine; say hello, get her hair washed (except it weighed about ten tons when it was wet and the way the neck rest made her bend in an incredibly uncomfortable angle was torture), towel dry, and deal with the awkwardly clipped plastic black bag that clung to her t-shirt the instant she sat down on the fancy weird salon seat.

“How short?”

It was such a simple question but rather than look the lady straight in the eye and answer she found herself looking down at her lap, hands clasped together and she twiddled her thumbs. It should have been easy. After all, it was what she really wanted. She hated this hair but then she thought about Blossom, about that one time when they were kids and how she accidentally ripped out a knot of her hair and tried to fix it. Was this really okay? Yeah, it was her hair but...it wasn’t. It just was too confusing and she kept hating herself more and more for this sheepish demeanor she was starting to develop because it wasn't part of the bad acts she played at home, it was real. 

The lady said nothing, giving Buttercup time to think as she combed the wet strands. It was odd, that sense of...comfort? It gave her as she raised her head and looked at the mirror. The girl in the chair was so small while the lady behind her stood so tall and confidently, gentle even as she brushed her hair. It reminded Buttercup of Ms. Bellum when she fixed her hair after the temper tantrum by Pete’s dumpster messed it up. She really didn't like how the girl in the mirror slouched her back, looking like she just wanted to crawl into herself and disappear. If there was anything to truly, with all of her being hate in this world it wasn't the lack of powers, lack of sisters, or lack of sense. What made her seethe was the stranger the world was seeing. That _wasn’t_ Buttercup. Maybe she’d regret it later but when she raised her head and felt the muscles on her spine strain from the action, she watched the reflection look back at her with a familiar spark in its eyes. 

“Bob cut with bangs.”

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” She was.

About an hour later with around thirty something dollars of Brick’s change in her pocket, Buttercup walked out of the salon and spotted the red sweater in the same spot she had left him at. She didn’t bother to dwell on the anomaly that was him actually not running away from her as she walked (strutted?) towards him. The cool, man-made breeze brush the hairs on the back of her neck. She opened her mouth to speak, not quite sure what to say but closed it when she realized that (for once) he wasn’t looking down at his phone but down at something on the second floor. She searched the ground until she caught sight of Butch and Boomer, about two other guys, and a group of three girls. She noticed how Butch seemed to have his hands pointed at one of the girls, his fingers in the 'pistol' position and his mouth running. He looked all confident in what he was doing, probably thought himself to be the best flirt on the earth that all the girls just had to love. None of that mattered in comparison to the shine of a particular piece of white fabric sticking out of his clothes. Buttercup rested one arm on the metal railing while she put her free elbow on it, getting comfy enough where she was able to rest her head on her open palm. 

“So uhh...Do we tell Butch that his shirt is on backwards or nah?”

“It’s a definite nah. This is the fifth time he’s done that this week. At this point I think he’s just a lost cause.”

“Agreed.”

She tried her best to hide her smile. As much as she'd beat Butch up for his constant innuendos and flirting, after not seeing it for what felt eons in action she couldn't help but laugh at the familiarity. At this point Brick decided Butch was no longer entertaining (which he always was, it was a fact) to turn his head and properly look at her. Rather than meet his gaze she kept her sights on the idiots visibly deflating face. She imagined it was because the girl pointed out the tag that stretched as far as it could to try and brush Butch's oblivious chin.

“They kept telling me how beautiful my hair was and if I was sure I wanted to do this. When I told them I wanted to donate it that got them to back off. Hopefully someone else can enjoy that mess.”

It didn’t take long for her to give up on trying to ignore Brick (really, how was he so good at it?). She turned her head and regarded him with a small, bashful smile instead of the confidence she held inside that salon. She quickly felt that unfamiliar expression wither away. 

“Looks good, right?” She offered a last chance for him to stop staring with that sort of picture dictionary look that fit under the classification of deadpan. The all to familiar anger stabbed through the confusion and seeped out with a bitter “wouldn't kill you to answer.” She took yet another deep breath in and rolled her eyes, willed the festering emotion to subdue as she turned her attention back to Butch. 

Times like these Buttercup wondered if it would have been better to confront Bubbles or Blossom with her dilemma but those pitying, judgmental stares held her back. While she couldn't stand Brick’s passiveness and general disregard for any and everything at least he still treated her normally, or as close to normal as she could get in this place. He didn’t make her feel like something was wrong with her even with his purposeful distancing. She couldn't blame him though; if the tables were turned Buttercup was sure she'd treat him the same. Maybe that was why she got so worked up- but she was not going to travel on that train of thought.

At some point they walked to the second floor, arriving just in time to catch Butch’s still failing attempts of getting this one giggly brunette to take him seriously. Then, for some odd reason, silence fell over the group. Butch was the last to notice because he was stupid enough to still try and 'put on the charms' on a girl who was clearly not paying attention. When it finally kicked in he followed the trail and, gaping like a fish, sputtered a “wh- sis!?”

Was it really that weird? Maybe this was a mistake. But there was no reason to regret what she’d already done. So, taking a page off of the book of 'the Butch' _(pft)_ she leaned forward and shook her head like a dog who just gotten out of a bath (which was relatable since her hair was still a little damp). She made sure to give them her best, most confident look as she eyed her ‘brother’ and the clueless girl beside him up and down.

“Sup ladies n’ gents. Like what you see?”

She’d never admit it aloud but the next hour or so hanging out with all of them, just goofing off and inserting herself whenever anyone smack talked Butch (no way was she sitting down for that, the fools needed to take some lessons on how to properly burn the loser) and feeling like a normal teenager was...kind of fun? In a weird, dreamlike way. 

Only when her right hand was on the doorknob back home did she stop herself. Her left hand went to the side of her head, fingers brushing all the way to the back and through the short black locks. The regret that vaporized in the atmosphere of mall giggles and shop doors returned to cloud her senses. Would they disapprove? Would this be the last straw for them to throw her into the looney bin? 

“It looks good.”

She didn't fully register those mumbled words until she felt her body being shoved to the side. Fortunately Buttercup managed to put a hand on the cold wall and regained her balance before falling, her reactions fast enough for her vision to catch a retreating streak of fire disappear into the house. Butch followed behind, a raised eyebrow clearly aimed in her direction before disappearing as well. Around half an hour or so later she managed to escape into her room and toss the bags of new clothes next to her wardrobe. She let herself fall into her bed, feeling the indent of coins press through the fabric of her (still stupid) jeans. Didn’t even think about what to do with the money as her mind went through all the different reactions she witnessed before her escape.

**_“You look -wow.” The Professor offered a small, sheepish smile before walking forward and ruffling her hair. When he pulled away he looked at his hand then at her, almost marveling at the fact that it didn’t get trapped in knots._ **

**_“I love it.” Ms. Bellum said from her spot behind the kitchen island._ **

**_“Buttercup! Omg your new hairstyle is so cute!” Bubbles squealed as she pulled her into a hug, just as quickly letting go to hold her at arm's length. With some surprising strength Bubbles spun her around._ **

**_“You think it looks weird too. Right, Bloss? I do too but hey, it’s the Goodlady genes that make us look hot regardless of the crazy styles we try out.” Butch ended with his weird finger guns pointed at Blossom._ **

**_Blossom rolled her eyes as she turned to face Buttercup. “It’s certainly different.”_ **

Buttercup raised her head slightly off the mattress, letting it gently fall back down and feeling the way the ends tickled the faux pillow that was her crossed arms.

**_“It looks good.”_ **

“Could’ve said that hours ago, moron.” She whispered to herself, feeling for the first time since she had woken up in that hospital bed an emotion she wouldn’t allow herself to think over or get muddled by her negativity. Instead she felt the warmth of it wrap around her, giving her a renewed sense of hope that everything would be okay. 

Buttercup felt content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you spot the scene inspired by leecheedoodles? Full credit for that amazing moment goes to her.


	4. the very idea of trying to understand is nonsense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of school was nothing to Brick compared to Buttercup's infiltration of his personal life.

Sunlight filtered out of mesh curtains in an attempt to cast its glow over florescent lights. It was a Monday morning like any other, the only insignificant difference between this one and the last was how it marked the start of the new school year. The family hung around the living room, even Bubbles who technically could get an extra hour of sleep but always made it a point to wake up early like everyone else. She was seated at her special spot, tying the laces of the glitter monstrosity she called shoes. Mom and dad stood by the front door with their backs against the wall and their hands intertwined. Brick was wedged in the center of the sofa between Blossom who was still combing her ridiculously long hair and Butch. The muscle man's head bobbed gently up and down. His earphones were shoved in place but those fluttering eyelashes emphasized the motions were his struggle to stay awake. 

It wasn’t as though this was the first time they waited for one of the girls to finish getting ready, but this was the ‘new’ Buttercup they were waiting for. Just another undesired change with a little more significance than he'd like to ponder over; he had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be good.

“Is that my jacket!?”

He almost flinched but resisted the urge as his gaze shifted from the incredulous ear-shattering moron who was shocked awake to the bottom of the staircase. With crossed arms and a slight puff of the cheeks stood a bob cut menace with a scowl that was sure to make any snot-nosed kid shrivel. A quiver of the lip gave away her next course of action but it seemed she caught herself (she was slowly getting better at that) and gave a ‘sweet smile’ (it was more fake than anything else in Brick’s eyes but everyone else seemed to buy into it or act as though they did). 

“I thought it matched and figured it would be okay. Right, big bro?” As if to add emphasis to her statement Buttercup twirled around, giving everyone a clear view to interpret.

This was certainly a new style, at least for the Buttercup they knew (he still had his doubts about her stories but sometimes with the way she acted he had to correct the acceptance that sometimes festered). She was wearing Butch’s signature bomber jacket that looked ridiculously big on her skinny frame, a black crop top, gold hoop earring that looked about the size of her fists, and high waisted black cargo pants with a bunch of unnecessary zippers. She was also sporting dark brown ankle boots that had some pretty thick soles. 

“I think it’s quite nice. It never hurts to experiment with new styles. Right, honey?” Mom broke the silence with a smile that shone through her messy morning hair.

Dad clearly was not pleased with seeing his daughter that never showed stomach baring it to the world. He would have protested if Mom didn’t wrap up his arm with hers. “R-Right.” He muttered as he scratched the side of his head, a clear indicator that he was lying or shy (in this case it was both).

“Yeah! It’s really different but it does kind of suit you, especially with your new hair! Like one of those people in a fashion magazine.” Bubbles was far too enthusiastic. He would have thought she was also faking but knew that cheer was genuine and chock full of sisterly affection.

“You look great but we have to hurry or else we’ll be starting off the school year late. I, for the record, believe we shouldn’t let that happen.” Signaled the end of this conversation. Blossom didn't bother to gauge the reactions to her words as she made her way to the front door.

He was impressed that Blossom failed to point out if they took any longer they’d risk dad getting late to work. But, well, it seemed his sister was changing too; she kept clipping her sentences as of late. He didn’t mind it, just like he didn’t mind how Butch pushed him when he jumped off the sofa. In seconds he stretched his arms high, cracked his neck, and sprinted to the door while shoving anyone that stood in his path. Butch was lucky only Blossom was in his way and she took the hit like a champ, the ever logical side of her easily controlled her instincts.

“I call shotgun!” The green eyed hazard hollered from outside. All the seats in the van were practically the same. They couldn’t really recline and it wasn’t like the idiot spent the car ride chatting it up with dad like anyone else in the house would. It just didn't make sense why he fought for the spot. 

“Have a good day at school.” Mom said the minute he reached the doorway. She flicked the visor of his cap up and kissed his forehead.

That was all it took to make his shoulders stiffen while he scanned his surroundings. The other untied heely held Bubbles attention while everyone else crawled into the van. He gave one last, cautious glance to the outside world before he kissed his mother on the cheek.

“I will. Take care at work.” And he was out the door, didn’t look back and blocked out the sound of giggles that echoed inside the house.

Brick easily slid into his spot in the van. One hand shut the door as the other snapped the seatbelt in place. Blossom nestled into the middle seat with a look so tender, so loving that he was sure all the lovestruck boys at school wished they were on the receiving end instead of the shabby book. Buttercup sat on her other side with her forehead pressed to the window. True to his word Butch dominated his shotgun throne. One could only feel sorry for that poor seat suffering under such a burdensome weight. Then there was that pesky sunlight that illuminated the dust particles floating in the air around Buttercup’s short black hair, giving the top and the slightly curled tips a blond sheen. It had only been about a week since she got it cut and he still found it odd to look at. Not only because he remembered all the times he was stuck at the hair salon with the girls and she’d demand the stylist multiple times to “please only cut and inch”. Mostly it was because it reminded him of all the changes that came from her fever. 

Seconds later dad wrapped his arm around the headrest of his seat, eyes darting to the sides one last time as he started backing out of the driveway. Brick quickly looked away and took his phone out of the pocket of his ripped and faded jeans. His mind bounced between two options; check his email or go back to the sickly sappy Korean webtoon Boomer recommended. A text alert filled his screen. 

Nut Job  
  
Do my new duds look weird?

He used his peripherals to see Blossom had the nail of her thumb trapped between teeth, using the action to subdue the emotions the story stirred in her. Buttercup kept her head pressed to the window but he knew she was probably using the posture to make sure neither of them could see her texting. The only person who might have been able to catch her would have been Butch with the side mirror but he was too busy jamming out to the music playing in his iPod to pay attention. Dad, the good driver he was, kept his focus on the road as the radio played some mellow guitar song.

Nut Job  
  
Look inside your closet  
  
Whats so wrong with it?  
  
You've had the same style since you were in diapers. Did you think no one would question the change?  
  
But her clothes are gross  
  
I swear this world thinks im a blossbubs hybrid  
  
Its like it doesnt want me wearin black  
  
Imagine waking up 1 day and ur clothes are all white  
  
What then?  
  


It would be upsetting but if he was thrust into the situation she kept saying she’s living with he would settle with the clothes if it meant laying low. He was more upset that ever since they went to the mall Buttercup would casually send a text at least once a day with questions or complaints. Just like her idiot brother he couldn’t quite understand some of her mannerisms either, mainly how she so freely talked about her delusions over text. Was she not afraid that he’d take this evidence and showcase her insanity to the world? Rather than respond to the onslaught of messages Brick slid his phone into his pocket. It became increasingly hard to use it as an excuse. Now he had to settle for outright ignoring her.

“Buttercup!” Blossom gasped in unison with the muffled _thud_ the nut job's arm created from colliding with the back of his headrest. It wasn’t like her arms were long enough to get there without pressing her body against the unsuspecting bookworm. Just as quickly as she struck Ms. Delusional returned to her place with an expression that teetered between playful and sheepish. 

“Sorry Bloss, I needed to stretch my arm. It was cramping."

Blossom clearly didn’t believe her but dismissed it with a huff, preferring to go back to her reading. He took a page from her book and gave the passing streets his attention before the psychopath could even bother to get another word in. The rest of the ride was spent in relative silence if you ignored Butch's takeover of the radio (which was ridiculous, the moron was listening to his own music so why mess with the controls?). He was also the first person to jump out of the van the minute they reached the student drop off section. His goodbye scream mingled with the sound of kisses Buttercup and Blossom pressed to dad's cheek. Brick waited until they'd slid out of the van to say his farewell, didn't even bother to look at the dorky peace sign aimed his way. Instead he bit his cheek as he got out and slid the van door shut. Blossom stood by his side, closing Butch's abandoned door. Only when dad started backing out did he and Blossom simultaneously turn their sights on the worn out hunter green bomber jacket.

Buttercup's head tilted up, one hand hovered over her face to cast a shadow in the space between her forehead and lips. Her attention was set on the Townsville High School sign. Years of sun exposure chipped away at the black paint, a clear contrast against the white building with its glass windows. He knew Blossom pondered over the same question; did Buttercup remember school? During their last weeks of summer no one brought it up. He didn’t think it was that important but there he was, internally laughing at himself for overtly watching the deranged teen with tacky earrings. It showed that he cared and he didn’t want that to be known no matter how minuscule (nonexistent) the emotion was.

It seemed Buttercup decided after a minute of staring that she needed to move on (or maybe she sensed the looks? Maybe she remembered?). She pulled out a crumpled paper from Butch’s jacket one could only assume was her schedule and tried to rub the wrinkles out with her knee. She gave the poor mess a skim before she gave the sign another glance and walked forward. He was about to follow the same path but felt Blossom’s fingers pinch the fabric of his long sleeve. “I got this” her bubblegum eyes seemed to tell him before they disappeared to follow Buttercup. He pulled the visor of his cap down with a sigh. It wasn’t like he was going to keep tabs on her at school too. After Pete’s he didn’t really do it anymore so why did Blossom feel like giving him that look? He pushed those thoughts to the side as he made his way to entrance.

Nut Job  
  
Do i have friends?

Not exactly the text Brick expect to receive in the middle of first period. Lucky for him the teacher was one of those softies who wanted the students to like her so she made the class do a group activity to get to know each other. Almost everyone in the class knew him, meaning they knew not to mess with him if he had his phone out. That also meant they’d cover for him if the teacher ever looked their way; the powers of intimidation.

Nut Job  
  
Do i have friends?  
Never seen them at the house so your guess is as good as mine.  
  


Against his desires his imagination conjured an image of her hiding her phone underneath a desk in an awful attempt to be inconspicuous. Unlike the look she gave Butch this morning the one she wore featured furrowed brows and chewed bottom lips, the one she so frequently portrayed when she had those weird internal conflicts. The backdrop flickered between a dark alleyway with a rustic dumpster and a homemade gym. The desk and her remained intact as the world around her settled into the back row of a stereotypical classroom that looked eerily like the one he was in. Her unpainted nails tapped her thigh incessantly like her brother (awful habit). Normally Buttercup, like Blossom and Bubbles, sat around the front or the middle of the class like the good little girls they were, but with her one eighty personality switch that could have changed. She probably had no idea who she normally talked to and was freaking out because she didn’t want to make a mistake and face the possible repercussions of teenage awkwardness.

Against his wishes a chuckle escaped. 

Brick chose to ignore the looks his classmates gave him as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Right on time, he noted as his scanned the room to see their teacher made her way to their side of the classroom. He didn’t really pay attention to the rest of the day, only ever jotting down what homework he had to deal with later. It wasn’t like he was the social type. That was the thing, if you didn't talk then school either dragged for what felt like days on end or it became an insignificant blur that ended as soon as it started. It didn't take long to reach lunch and the last bell.

Blossom, always the conversation starter, asked everyone how their first day went as soon as they buckled up inside the van. He knew she did it not as a formality or out of genuine curiosity but to give dad a chance to hear without having to ask himself.

“Pretty good. Coach was glad to see me and the grub for lunch wasn’t as toxic as could be.”

He caught the stifled snort that came from Buttercup's side of the van. Blossom seemed to have too, he could tell from the way she tried her best to not give the nut job an incredulous look. No one laughed at Butch’s stupid jokes except for maybe Bubbles or mom. 

“Same old, same old.” The response he always gave that everyone accepted. Even on the first day of senior year, the most anticipated time for any teen, it was just that.

He noted how the mood shifted when a longer than normal silence settled after his response. Everyone turned expectantly towards the girl who somehow didn't have a permanent red blotch from all the rides she pressed her forehead to the smudging glass. This wasn’t going to go well for the oblivious punk wannabe. Really, her acting was awful and she seriously needed to learn to read the room if she wanted to successfully pretended to be sane. Blossom must have pitied her, what with the gentle elbow nudge she gave that popped the fool out of her fantasies.

“Buttercup, how was your day?” Far too kind, sis. Far too kind.

It seemed the moron really had lost more brain cells in school. Not too surprising since Butch always lost them regardless of where he was.

“Uh...Good? Yeah. It was...nice...seeing everyone again.”

“Did you see Princess today?” Was Butch's attempt to save the poor girl. The fact that he of all people picked up on this was far too sad for words.

“Yeah. She was real happy to see me. Like, _really_ happy...It was...nice…”

Truly awful. No one was buying this. Only terrible liars would add prolonged pauses in between sentences. The worst of them would try to sprinkle truths into their words and avoid inconvenient parts, all of which she'd done. Really, this girl was far too loved and far too blessed because they all settled for the answer. Blossom, the kind and benevolent older sister role model she was, switched her focus to dad and asked him how his day at work went. Of course it went well, he always made sure to make his stories about teaching college English and Science classes as positive as possible for everyone's sakes.

* * *

In one smooth motion Brick eased the front door in place. Taking in a deep breath, he let it out and watched the vapor curl in the crisp outdoor air. It was four in the morning, about five degrees celsius, and he was well prepared to start off the day right. Butch was still inside the house and it seemed Boomer decided to run late too. He took this rare chance of morning solitude to lean on the smooth white wall of the house and close his eyes. He was glad it was starting to cool down around Townsville. He hated the overly hot summers, much preferred the cool autumn breeze. It was comforting, downright soothing and he’d never understood how anyone could hate the season. Sure raking the leaves was a pain but the weather was worth it. 

“Boss, we gotta problem.” Yeah they did, Brick hated the nickname and Butch knew it. Did the guy really want to ruin his day so early?

“I really don’t see what the big deal is.”

At least he didn't until he opened his eyes as his leg pushed him off of the wall. Probably left an imprint there but didn't mind. Butch stepped out of the house and - ** _Oh._ ** That kind of problem. The kind called a psychotic little sister who clearly did not understand just how insane she was, looking all innocent in her little ponytail wearing her black tights and ( _really?_ ) one of his red hoodies. Did the girl run out of her last shred of sanity?

“What are you doing?” He asked, letting a little too much of his exasperation seep out. How could he not? The girl was cutting into their morning jog time wearing _his_ hoodie. 

Buttercup looked up at Brick, apparently just realizing he was there as she closed the door behind her. He thought she would have realized how wrong this situation was. Maybe she’d apologize and sheepishly run back up the stairs and drop off the (again, _his)_ hoodie where it belonged -in his room and not on her.

"What’s it look like? Y’all running and I-” A cool breeze passed by and she tensed, clinging to herself in a protective hug. “ _AH!_ It’s freezin'.”

Butch, the useless fool, was just bobbing his head back and forth as he looked from his demented little sister to him. He could feel the heat radiating inside the pockets of his black running sweater from the friction of his balled up winter gloved fists. It was just another test of his patience. The Goodlady spawns ought to count their blessing that he was long trained in how to control his emotions. 

“Hey dudes. Oh, and Bee. What are you doing up at this time?” Boomer, the even bigger buffoon, screeched from their driveway as he jogged the rest of the way to meet them. Brick did his best but could feel the slight malice he emitted when his sights set on the blond. Of course the scrawny idiot completely deflected it as his gaze remained locked on the hoodie stealing nuisance.

“I-I want to run t-too.” She muttered as her teeth clattered. Did she honestly think that she was going to be able to run in that condition? She’d probably last till the end of the driveway before giving up and running back to her bed. 

He rolled his eyes as Butch’s chuckles filled the silence. The laughter increased when Buttercup punched his shoulder, reaching levels that could possibly wake up someone inside the house (most Utonium’s were light sleepers except for those cursed with psychotic Goodlady genes). Brick wasted no time in walking towards Butch and placing the buffoon in a chokehold. That stopped the laughter. Only when the idiot tapped his shoulder weakly in defeat did he let go. 

“S-Sorry. I just...Come on man, how could I _not_ laugh?” Butch wheezed in between breaths. His hands were on his knees and his body shook in what Brick knew was the idiots feeble attempts to contain his mirth. Buttercup was still fuming, still shivering but he paid her no heed as he continued to observe Butch, fully prepared to beat the boy if his volume increased.

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be something different.” Okay, he must have been hearing things. Well, no, Brick knew Mr. Nice Guy would say something stupid like that. He wasn’t surprised in the least him standing next to a clearly uncomfortable Buttercup, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Besides, she wants to do it. As gentlemen it’s only right for us to give the lady what she wants.”

"What lady? That’s Buttercup”.

To that Brick slapped his forehead and dragged it down. Why was he cursed to be around braindead fools? Rather than ponder the misfortune he faced he looked down at his phone to see it was four twenty-three am. Okay, now he was done. Forget the stolen clothes, forget the dolts. He knew it was pointless to speak up (it always was, that’s why he rarely bothered) so he did what any logical person would do, he ran.

Morning jogs were a tradition. Brick did it because it was a simple way to stay fit- a routine. Butch did it because he was insanely athletic and jumped at any chance to move. Boomer...well, he was a follower who probably went along to spend 'quality time together' or whatever. But where did Buttercup fit in all this? She didn't. As far as Brick knew the only exercise the pain in his neck ever did was with her dance team during their practices. She never jogged and most certainly never woke up at the same time they did (she also never stole others clothes. Seriously, this was just another confirmation that the girl was mental).

But those thoughts, much like his frustrations, were stomped by the incredible hulk's strides. Brick decided to flatter the fool and properly regard him, a silent thanks for the distraction but then the streetlights did their thing. The glow cast its shadows over Butch's face, defining all the twists and curves of the maniacal grin reserved for moments where he felt he had the upper hand. It was enough to get on Brick's already overly frazzled nerves so he pressed forward. Sure the muscle head had all those lumps to show off with but they both knew when push came to shove Brick was the faster of the two. The only person that could give them a run for their money was nowhere in sight. Brick didn’t need to look back to know where the 'gentleman' was. Idiot. Why waste a good jog trying to stay in step with the deranged girl? Truly, crazy people attracted crazy people.

When they reached the four stop that divided the local park and the path that led to Pokey Oaks Kindergarden, both turned their attention to the road ahead. Seeing as there were no cars in sight they didn’t bother with pressing the pedestrian walk button as they sprinted towards the entrance of the park.

He was all too thankful that the people of this small town decided four in the morning in the middle of autumn was not worth the effort of a morning run. They were missing out but he didn’t mind seeing as to the fact it gave them clear paths. They could run to their hearts content without having to dodge other runners. Another reason to hate summer was that they would litter the streets at all times of the day because of the warmer weather and lack of school to keep them away.

Brick and Butch ran to the left side where the trail curved to show off the various flora planted around. It made the race all the more entertaining while being easy access to the area of the park that ended closest to home. Normally they’d run around the whole place three times before heading back but, call it the kindness of his heart (the little that was in it) he decided to spare Boomer the task of babysitting by cutting their routine short. Besides, they didn’t have too much time to work with. Once five hit the family started waking up and if they weren’t home by five thirty mom would nag them about how they should wake up earlier or save it for after school, neither option appealed to any of them.

The sound of the grass crunching beneath him mingled with Butch’s voice. “What?” He couldn't quite make out the words and since the hill was coming up ahead he slowed down enough that Butch easily caught up. 

“What’s up with you and my sis?” 

Should he pick up speed and avoided the surely annoying conversation this would explode into? Or slow down to give the idiot another chance to breathe some oxygen into his dying brain so he could attempt to redeem his stupidity and think for once? Neither option appealed to him as much as pondering if insanity was contagious while his body skid to a stop in front of the small jungle gym meant for toddlers. The park exit was in sight but he chose to walk towards the fading blue seahorse statue and pressed the button of the tacky looking attempt of making a water fountain ‘cute’. The water chilled his throat. Not good to have right after a run but he chose to ignore that as he gulped it down.

When he stood straight and wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand he saw Butch. He was sitting on the blue bench all the doting parents claimed to watch their kids exhaust their energy. He sighed, walked towards it, and took a seat next to the fool. 

“Come on, bro. Spill. Ever since she got out of the hospital you two've been hangin' an awful lot. Do you like her?” Was he high? How could he say all that with that confident glint in his eye and that annoying grin on? This was why none of the girls bothered with him. That look was too obnoxious. 

”Don’t blame you man. Technically you two aren’t related so you get a free pass. Besides-” He leaned in. “Man to man.” He brought his hand to his chest then gestured at Brick and back at himself. The grin was replaced by a small frown that showed he was serious. “I’ll be real. You’re literally the best guy in this whole world. If there’s anyone I’d trust to be with her it’s you.”

Maybe it wasn’t the hospital that made Buttercup crazy. Insanity must have run in the Goodlady genes. 

“I don’t like her like that.” Butch rolled his eyes, Brick ignored it as he went on. To prove his point he mimicked Butch and leaned in close, making sure to focus all the frustration he'd accumulated thanks to the moron’s little sister right at him. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen up. There’s nothing between us. The girl is just delusional and decided to come to me of all people for help.”

Butch leaned back with an incredulous look. Normally Brick would have left it at that but the fact that the moron had insinuated so much needed to be corrected. He raised his hand, hovering his palm inches from Butch’s mouth. "Not done. Believe what you want but that’s the truth. Your sister is mental.”

Butch laughed. If Brick was anyone else he might have thought that it was one of amusement but he wasn’t just anyone. He knew Butch’s nervous laughs better than anyone, better than he did. When it passed the fake joy left his face, only concern clouded his senses.

“Do you seriously think that? Has she...has she told you anything?” This was exactly what Brick had been trying to avoid all the times he kept an eye on Buttercup. Not much made Butch lose his cheer, even when he was angry the guy was always smiling. 

He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose and shifted his body so his back could properly rest on the bench. He could feel the shift and heard the bench squeak as Butch copied him. Now they both had a perfect view of that poor piece of iron called a water fountain and the miniature version beside it for the smaller tots. Not a sight he liked but it beat staring at Butch as he finished collecting his thoughts and spoke the lines that rung most true.

"I’m no doctor but I’m sure she’ll be okay. I doubt she’ll ever be the same though.” It was harsh but he wasn’t going to bother sugar-coating it for the worried older brother. The dude was practically an adult, they both were. He needed to face this head on. Once more Brick contemplating if insanity was contagious even though he knew it wasn’t. From the distance he could see two blobs slowly take shape; Boomer and Buttercup were coming closer. 

“Even if she may not remember everything, even if she acts completely different, she’s still your sister. She’s strong, just like you.” And there it was, the cackles Brick had been fully prepared for. Of course Butch would laugh. If he were in the idiots shoes he’d laugh at himself as well. 

The sound quickly died down as Boomer and Buttercup approached. Butch playfully punched Brick's shoulder when the duo stopped in front of them. Boomer looked just as energized as always. He most certainly could go for ten laps around the park. Buttercup, on the other hand, looked as though she had ran ten miles and was borderline about to pass out from exhaustion. Her legs were trembling slightly and her hands rested on Boomer’s arm, using him as support.

“Wh...What ar-re you slow...pokes. Doo-” She gasped between the words.

Boomer easily slipped from her grip and twirled behind her. He put both his hands on her shoulders and led her to the water fountains. Brick watched, marveled at her silence and submissiveness as she bent forward. Boomer had one hand still on her shoulder, supporting her as his free hand leaned down and pressed the button. Water shot out and Buttercup spent a little longer than he expected drinking it. He was sure she spat out half of what she tried to drink in between breaths. He would have slipped, would have chuckled at the sight had he not felt Butch’s weight lift up and away. 

The idiot stretched his arms in the air and brought a hand down to Brick’s shoulder. He watched, saw the look on Butch’s face show some semblance of what he imagined was pride. Not the usual 'I think I’m better than you haha' type but genuine pride that was something a father would share with a son. It was sickening.

“Please take care of her and don’t hesitate to call the Butch for help.” The kid was insufferable. 

Brick easily ignored Butch as they reunited with the fountain pals. Even though Buttercup protested (was the girl a masochist or something?) they walked the rest of the way home and managed to make it inside the house before six. Mom wasn’t too happy when she spotted them from the kitchen but when she saw Buttercup was with them she fished out a tray and served each of them a cup of lukewarm water. She even offered Boomer a ride to school which he was more than happy to accept. 

Later on in the day, when they were reunited at lunch, Boomer would be the one to bring up this morning's incident first.

“I think it’s awesome she wants to get strong. Like, seriously, what girl wakes up at three thirty in the morning to run with a bunch of guys in the middle of autumn? That’s real dedication.”

“Did she tell you anything else?” The two were clearly related. They were both terrible actors.

“Not really. I just asked her if it wants to build stamina for her dancing and she said yeah. Again, so dedicated. Real admirable. Besides-” Boomer pointed the straw inside his carton of chocolate milk at them, glaring from his spot across the small lunch table. “You saw her when we caught up to you guys. She couldn’t really talk much after exerting more energy than she had. You guys are such jerks. Should have just jogged at her pace like me.” He took a quick sip of the drink. “We should probably adjust our routine for her. Maybe come up with a regime to get her caught up to speed.”

“Please, Boom. You know that’s dumb. Sis ain't never gonna catch up to us. Sides’, you know Boss doesn’t like slowin' down for anyone. Right?” Butch nudged his side. 

Was it really necessary to talk about this? It wasn’t like he valued this time they shared in school together but he certainly would rather spend it talking about anything else. He felt his phone vibrate and ignored it, not wanting to pick it up and discover the girl in question was blowing his phone up with whatever nonsense she deemed important.

“Come on, you of all people should know she means business. You can’t tell me you don’t see that fire in her eyes. It’s been burning since we saw her in the hospital. Speaking of…” Boomer leaned forward, shifting to his right so he was closer to Butch. “You still owe us for covering your night shifts at the hospital. So, like the good samaritan I am, I’ll cash in that favor. One among the hundreds you owe me, might I remind you.” He paced the carton back on his tray and used the now freed hand to tap his index finger on the metal lunch table. “Make a training regime for Bee so she can catch up. You can do that much, right? Mr. Sports star. At the very least you can ask around and get some help on making it happen. Try getting it done soon, we’re counting on you.”

Butch remained motionless, face contorted in a mix of fury and discomfort as Boomer patted his shoulder with a mock smile. Brick couldn’t control his own grin. Boomer may have been the dumber than the dumbest but when he put his mind to something the kid could be downright devious. Why waste that little skill on Buttercup was beyond him. Then again, the idiot always seemed to have a soft spot for the Utonium girls. 

“Fine! Just don’t bring that up again. I can’t believe I used that time to go on that date. She wasn’t even worth all the chasin'.” Of course that girl wasn’t. Brick had told him that but the idiot never listened and took the chance at the expense of getting in trouble. Really, the moron ought to be happy his sister had amnesia. If she remembered that he hadn’t shown his face once after she woke up and pointed it out to the family Butch would have been in deep trouble. This world could be so unfair, giving the morons all the luck and giving him the shorter, temper-tantrum throwing end of the stick.

He really wasn’t looking forward to where this was going.


	5. as always

It was the second day of school and, unlike all the other times she spent in her life wishing it was over out of sheer boredom, Buttercup wished it was over just so she could go home. Which, in retrospect, was torture in and of itself; one month later and it was still increasingly hard to adjust. She really didn't like being in that house with it's too apparent reminders that she was intruding in someone else's life- _literally_. Easily avoiding everyone by retreating into the room of a stranger without being called out on it should have been comforting, that didn't change the emptiness it gave her or the disgust she felt at seeing so much yellow in every corner (seriously, of all the colors to obsess over it just had to be _yellow_ ). It also didn't stop her from remembering time and time again how she was too used to constantly being around Blossom and Bubbles.

In this world being sisters was just a title. They might as well have been strangers.

School was worse. She couldn't escape to a room to battle all those pesky feelings. In school she had to be social even though everyone in the house gave her the impression that the Buttercup of this world was someone who spoke up only a handful of times. It seemed the Buttercup that went to school was slightly more talkative with her own little cliques. A clique with one Princess Morbucks.

**_Princess._ **

Speaking of-

"Butters! Come on, we can't be late for lunch!"

She really wished she could go home _now_.

She really, really wished Princess didn't lock arms with her and pull her away from her desk towards the door.

Buttercup's mind decided rather than yank her arm free from the psychopath, remembering yesterday would be the easier action.

**-Roughly twenty-four hours ago-**

The bell for lunch rung was the background music for her escape. The crowds of people dashed to get an early spot in the lunch line, leaving her with the comforting thought of hiding in some corner of the school to be alone with her questions (bless this world for not changing the locations. No, it just had to change the stories of the people in it). She didn't even get to walk past the hall that lead to the huge cafeteria before hearing-

"BUTTERS!"

Against her wishes her body froze. Even though Buttercup wanted to evacuate it seemed that her body's autopilot decided to turn in the direction of the yell, only for her to come face to face with a grinning, frizzy redhead who still thought it was fashionable to have her hair in those obnoxious, oversized puffballs- and then Princess pulled her into a hug.

Princess Morbucks was hugging her.

"It's been too long! I'm so, so sorry I didn't message you over the break. Daddy didn't want me to use the phone cause 'family time is family time'-bleh. Butttttt I decided I'd comply as a birthday gift of sorts. I missed you too much, boo."

Waking up to a baby Bubbles and no sisterly relationship was tough.

Waking up to the Professor being happily married to Ms. Bellum with Brick and Blossom being their kids was odd.

Butch, her brother? Freaky.

Princess Morbucks hugging her and acting like they were best friends and being genuinely cheery? Arguably just as aggravating and difficult to comprehend as the loss of her powers.

"You okay girl? Like, you look like you've seen a ghost or somethin'."

She was, the ghost of a girl who usually was always screeching about money, hating others, money, her sisters, or Brick; could either one of them show up to be a distraction and save her from this? No, they couldn't, so Buttercup had to swallow her emotions (shouldn't this be a habit by now? She'd probably never get used to it).

"I was just so shocked. It's been too long…" She tried to smile while hoping with all her might It didn't come off as too fake. But there it was, that look she'd seen too much too recently from others on Princess' face. With a sigh of defeat Buttercup slumped as she muttered a "I...missed you too."

Buttercup never thought she'd reach new levels of self-loathing as she felt Princess' arms squeeze her tighter. The snooty ginger's hands shifted and reached out to grab hers and not just any grab, the grab where you slip your fingers in between the other persons and then you add the slightest of pressure, like "you're the most important person to me" type of grip and then she got yanked thought the double doors leading to the school cafeteria.

**-Current time-**

It was too surreal. It really made her feel like this insanity had to be some twisted dream- nightmare, whatever. It was also a blur, being dragged to a table with Susie Jenkins and some other girl she didn't recognize and hearing them chat on and on about whatever it was they thought was important. She only ever caught words and when they tried to include her they had likely noticed she just wasn't there mentally and let it slide cause friends do that? (She wasn't sure, it's not like she was the friendliest Powerpuff). What successfully snapped her out of her stupor was Princess slapping her hands on the lunch table and exclaiming "we're going to rock tryouts!"

"Do you think they'll let Monica be captain again? Gosh, I hope not. She was the worst at it last year. Like, I still don't get why Christina had to drop. She was clearly the best captain this school has had in years." Susie's words all but sounded like rushed jargon to her.

Now that she regained her sense she was able to easily block them out and notice they were back at that weird lunch table she was forced to sit at yesterday. It was one of those outdoor tables with a metal looking green umbrella that seemed brand new. Now that she thought about it as she glanced at the other tables around them, they all looked oddly brand new. Was it Princess' doing?

"You doing okay today?"

Buttercup rubbed her arm and looked to the side (be Blossom, pretend to be Blossom).

"Yeah. I'm sorry. So much was going on yesterday I was just lost in my own thoughts. But I'm here today!"

The concern on the freaky trio's faces immediately washed away as the girl Buttercup still didn't recognize screeched "It's okay! We had a feeling" with an absolutely grating voice she'd knew it'd take some time to get used to.

This world clearly just wanted her to be Blossom.

"So, like, since you're here. I just gotta know…Did something happen over the summer?"

"Are you pulling a Mulan?"

These two brunette Princess followers were really playing the twin game too well. It was slightly creepy and the fact they had no problem getting so close to her face made the fight to hold herself back from punching them a tougher internal battle than needed.

"Girls, leave her be. She don't gotta spill if she don't wanna. Sides', it looks mega adorbs Butters. Kinda reminds me of back in Kindergarten when we first met." Never in her life did she think she'd feel grateful to _Princess_ of all people. She also never thought she'd feel obligated to answer the annoying duos question.

"So…uh…This summer I kinda got this big fever, like real bad. I was in the hospital for...like, a week?" She was starting to regret this choice, what with those pitying gazes she was growing to hate to new levels since waking up in this world (and what was up with those likes? Were they infectious?). But no, she had to tell them. Of the multitude of thoughts and emotions stomping and screaming inside her, the one that won was the thought that letting them know a little bit of the truth would make the transition easier and, as much as she hated pity, it would give her the leeway to be more herself if people saw her acting in a way they thought wasn't her.

"And after I woke up, it felt so gross on my back and I just…kinda started thinking like maybe it was time to change? Y'know, nothing big, just figured starting with my style was good. Y'know?"

Buttercup couldn't and wouldn't let it show but, deep inside, she felt relieved when the breaths they were holding in broke free. One of the twins started hugging her and then the other followed suit. Did they do everything together?

"Oh gosh, we had, like, no idea."

"I can't believe it. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Okay, if she could pull this off, maybe everything would be fine. Yeah. _Yeah_ ….

"I'm good. Just…Can y'all keep a secret?"

They collectively gasped, acting as though they were genuinely offended. It was funny enough she felt it right to let a smile slip on the corner of her lip. Maybe getting used to these girls wouldn't be too bad? (Seemed better than getting used to her sisters, sadly.)

"Of course. Girls code." To that she had to snort.

"Okay, well…I lost my memories." Now that gasp was genuine. "To be honest, I'm still trying to piece it together but I forgot a lot, like…you guys. Sorry."

The hugs grew tighter until they decided it was enough and let her go. Now all three pairs of eyes were just staring at her, this time with that sort of look Buttercup imagined was them trying to process it all.

"Oh Butters, no wonder you were like that yesterday." She never thought Princess would be the perceptive one. "But that's okay, we're here to help. Right, girls?"

"YEAH!"

"Okay, so what do you need to know?"

Why didn't she just do this with the family? It was so refreshing, just coming out and telling people the truth. They weren't even pitying her as she asked questions upon questions. They just took her in, genuinely understood, and answered. It felt like she was back home talking to her sisters except there were three girls here and one of them was Morbucks of all people.

If it turned out that Princess was still a deceptive, whiny, little piece of snot who decided to double-cross her (nothing new if that happened) she was ready to face it. This school, her family, or the whole world could turn on her (more than it already did) and she'd find a way to face it. She was the toughest.

"So about those dance tryouts…how long have I been a dancer?"

They looked at one another, as though they weren't sure who should be the one to say it. Or, who knew, maybe they didn't know?

"You and Princess have been part of the team since freshman year."

"And we've been in dance together since the sixth grade."

Five years?

"So…you remember dancing, right? Like, you can still dance?"

"Oh no…the audition's today. What if…Are you gonna be okay?"

She didn't know how to answer them.

Would she be?

Buttercup never danced, she fought. She got dirty, bruised, and never cared how she looked while doing it. She didn't exactly think she could pull off the whole dancer thing. But…they just looked so pitifully at her ( ** _ugh_** ). Those looks really were becoming a pet peeve.

"I don't know but can't knock it till you try it?" She tried to put on the cheer as she imitated the Professor's lame positive body language. It felt all sorts of awkward and wrong but hey, it worked. They beamed, this time all three of them getting up to hug her. Okay, this was a bit too much. Was that just their way of communicating?

After school when she was ushered by Princess who somehow wound up waiting outside of her classroom for her to guide her (like, was that norma- oh no, those likes _were_ becoming infectious. Gross). She felt as though she was thrown into a new world. She never went to the dance classroom. Okay, maybe she went once to give Bubbles her change of clothes one day when she waited on her to fly home but she didn't go inside and actually look at it. Sure, she was used to seeing golden hardwood floors with the wax finish, but usually those rooms had yoga balls and equipment. This room was bare except for the desk that clearly had to belong to the dance teacher (it just screamed sp with the huge golden trophy with ballet slippers on the top plus the "world's best dance teacher" mug next to the nameplate). There were those bar things she knew ballets used when they danced all shoved to the side. There were also about forty girls all lined up, sitting on the ground with their backs to the mirrors.

For the first time all day Buttercup looked at her reflection. It was odd, seeing herself in her baggy PE shorts and matching top when all the other girls were wearing anything but the standard PE uniform. Most were dressed in tight leggings, those fabric shorts that she never knew what they were called, and tight tops. Some even wore leotards. She could also see Princess standing right next to her wearing one of those leotards (in yellow, yuck) with black shorts and black pantyhose. Her hair was still in it's ridiculous pigtails and she topped the look off with a small yellow blow clipped on the left side. Princess seemed to notice the staring as she looked into Buttercup's eyes through the mirror. She slinked their arms together and dragged her to the end of the wall closest to the door, far away from that desk that seemed far too imposing when it was supposed to be anything but.

Buttercup still couldn't shake off the feeling that she didn't belong as the door opened once more, this time with some tall, lanky blond woman wearing baggy black pants and a tight black tank top. She had seen her yesterday, been shoved into this classroom unexpectedly (turns out this world switched out her gym period for dance. Go figure) and went through the motions, but Buttercup kept her eyes on the lady. She looked oddly familiar.

"Welcome ladies to our 2009 dance team tryouts!" Everyone but Buttercup seemed to cheer. "Both new faces and old, I'm so glad to see you here. I know most of you have met me in class but let me introduce myself once more. My name is Ms. Fey and I will be your dance instructor." She was pacing around the room, her steps awfully light. It almost looked as though she was skipping. "We will start today's auditions with returning members. While they are accepted by default that does not mean they still won't put on a show for us. Take note of this, new members. One must never conform to their role. You must always be prepared to show the best you got. Strive for greatness lest you risk losing your purpose."

She couldn't believe it but…was this lady actually…being relatable? For Buttercup, who oh so desperately was fighting with filling the shoes of a girl far from herself, she found that piece of advice all too compelling.

Ms. Fay called name after name, each girl answering the call with their own one minute improve dance routine. The music boomed from Ms. Fey's ipod connected to the speakers by a long aux cable. It wasn't until the words "Buttercup Utonium" echoed in the room did she remember she was supposed to be a part of this process. Those eerie blue eyes stared, compelled her to stand and move to the center of the room. Buttercup had no idea she had gotten up until her arm registered a newfound sense of coldness from leaving Princess' grip. She gulped as her gaze shifted from one end of the room to the other. All the girls were looking at her, some excitedly, some expectantly, and some with fake interest. She gulped again when her eyes connected with her reflection; she really didn't fit this place.

" ** _RedOne, Konvict. GaGa, oh, eh_** " (Later on she'd laugh when Princess brought up how truly ironic it was that Just Dance by Lady Gaga wound up being the song she'd danced to).

Buttercup closed her eyes. It was easier to let go if she couldn't see what was in front of her. It was just like instinctively closing her eyes when blindly throwing a punch. It gave her a sense of power and confidence as she let her body take control.

One breath, two breaths.

**_I've had a little bit too much, much (oh, oh, oh)_ **

She could feel the way her legs swayed as she stepped to the side, clutching her arm as though it was broken while she wobbled around, ultimately letting her weight go and crashing to the ground.

**_All of the people start to rush (start to rush by)_ **

Her hand that was clutching her arm went to her face, covering her eyes as she shook her head side to side with the beat. Her other arm that had been her support went straight out, blindly reaching to grasp something in the air.

**_A dizzy twister dance, can't find my drink or man_ **

**_Where are my keys? I lost my phone, phone (oh, oh, oh)_ **

Both hands shot to the ground while her legs came close to her body, her knees almost brushing under her chin. Feeling the smooth surface of the ground beneath her open palms, she used them to push her body into a spin. Not quite sure where she stopped (she'd like to hope it was still facing the audience) her palms flew down again, smacking the ground as her head did a full spin then went up. It was another blind search act as the one hand was at the ground pushing the ground so she could stand up. She stumbled up (on purpose? She wasn't quite sure) and when she found her balance her hips swayed as both her arms went up, parallel, and her right arm stretched out to her left side.

**_What's goin' on on the floor?_ **

**_I love this record, baby, but I can't see straight anymore (woo!)_ **

She risked it all as she leaned her upper half forward and opened her eyes, looking side to side in what she hoped was cluelessness. Everyone was expectantly looking at her. She could even make out Princess on the corner of the classroom with her hands clasped together, the biggest grin plastered on her face that could make any smiley emoji envious. She gave one last look up to the ceiling then down to the ground before closing her eyes and turning her back to them. She did a mini jump and landed with legs slightly spread out, put her arms parallel again, and felt the slight strain on her knees as her upper half rotated in a circle. Her left leg leg kicked back as the top half of her body turned slightly to the left, her right hand extending out before her body turned back to stand straight. Her body repeated the motion once more before both her arms extended towards the ceiling. She did another jump and landed butt first on the ground, her legs criss crossed.

**_Keep it cool, what's the name of this club?_ **

**_I can't remember but it's alright, a-alright_ **

Her hands went to her head, shaking side to side, then another head spin. They balled into fists and hit the ground. She did the same spin on the ground as before and she hoped again that it landed her face to face with the audience as her body swayed to the sides, nearly touching the ground. Her palms smacked the ground once again and she jumped up (this time without the stumble).

When the chorus played she wasn't quite sure what her body was doing anymore. She knew she had leaped but was she spinning standing up now too? There were more leaps, some kicks, and she thought she might have thrown some silly old dance moves like the sprinkler in there.

The song (finally) paused and when she opened her eyes she was met with the customary claps all the girls got at the end. For her, it really did feel like an accomplishment applause where they were celebrating that she actually managed it -or at least she liked to believe she managed it. Ms. Fey was already calling the next name down the list when she sat down and felt her arm get snatched up by Princess. It was only two days (and maybe it was just her body feeling it) but she was getting too used to that gesture.

"You did epic, Butters!" Princess beamed before pulling her closer to whisper in her ear. "You still got your dance moves. It'll be okay." Again, why was Princess the one making her feel comforted?

It turned out that Princess was the last on the list of 'veteran' dancers. When she went up, all confident with her arms at her hips like she just belonged on center stage (Buttercup tried to hide her eye roll and hoped it worked).

" ** _There's only two types of people in the world. The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe._** "

She had to hide her snort. Really, was Ms. Fay's ipod on crack or was she doing it on purpose? Because this song was too fitting for Princess and...she...was moving in ways Buttercup never imagined Princess could. All smooth like having bones didn't matter as she pranced around and swayed to her beat. She even jumped and did a split- a _split_ and body rolls. Buttercup wasn't sure but it felt like Ms. Fay let the song play longer than the minute mark to let the chorus end and give Princess a proper stop point.

The class gave their respectful claps as the rich ginger skipped back to her spot.

"How'd I do?" She asked, gleeful.

"You did great." Buttercup managed to spit out after a few seconds of non-stop staring. It felt like she had just spit out gravel, the taste of those words too foreign when they were directed to someone she never would normally say that too.

The rest of the auditions were a blur of girls and Ms. Fey's ending announcement of results being posted outside her door by Friday. Buttercup barely participated in the idle chit chat as she, Princess, and the twins stood outside waiting for their rides. The girls didn't seem to mind as they giggled and continued to talk about whatever was entertaining them at the moment. When she saw Brick's red car roll into the parking lot she was flooded with another sense of relief, one of finally being able to retreat when she noticed to her horror how Princess and the girls followed her even after she said her goodbyes to them.

"Hey Brick, how've you been?" Princess asked as Buttercup opened the door.

She didn't know why but this gave Buttercup the chills. It wasn't like this was exactly new. She knew the Princess and Brick from her world knew one another, what with their lives of being villains turned neutral party and what not. She also knew that they might have had something that was probably one-sided on Princess' part but she wasn't too sure. Again, this made her all too aware of how little she took notice of others that weren't in her small circle of friends.

She sort of blocked out the mini conversation going on with Brick and Princess through the open window, didn't even want to look at Brick but when she did and saw he had that infuriatingly impassive look he always seemed to have in front of everyone. She felt a sense of ease that came from not having to worry about awkward teenage romances being part of their talks (though she honestly doubted he'd ever talk to her about those parts of his life). The minute Princess and him shared their goodbyes and Brick took off she let out a much needed sigh.

"You okay, Bee?"

She felt her heart leap to her throat as she turned her head to see Boomer sitting in the center of the back seat. How could she not have noticed him? How long had he been there? Did he say hi before and she just didn't hear him?

"Just ignore her and spare me." Brick muttered, gaze focused on the road ahead.

"Harsh, bro. Let the girl speak. How was your day?"

Buttercup didn't know who she hated more, Brick for his...whole existence or Boomer for, as kind and caring as he was, being there. She couldn't exactly relay her frustrations and disbelief's with the ignorant blue boy sitting in the back. It was bad enough she couldn't talk about yesterday with Brick but now another day? It was too much; she really needed another confidant (or the ability to fly so she could just go to a random mountain and scream about everything. That would be nice).

"It was..." She tried her best to find the 'right' words to say. "Okay."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah."

Boomer leaned forward, his elbows on the arm rest and his chin on his hands. Those dark, big blue eyes felt so invasive she was mildly impressed they could evoke such an emotion in her. Also he was way too close or at least it felt that way inside this cramped car.

"Really?"

Now he was being a bit too much. Did he know something? She opened her mouth but a red sweatshirt covered elbow landed on Boomer's cheek, pushing him back into the faux-leather of the backseat.

"Oww!"

"Shut up and put on your seatbelt, moron."

Maybe...she could be honest? It worked with Princess and her gang, so why not? Besides, now that she was thinking about it, wasn't it weird that she felt like she could only talk to Brick? Yeah, sure it made sense since he was the only one who knew the full truth but...Ugh, this was getting to weird. She shook her head and let out a long sigh.

"Today was dance team auditions. I think I did good? I dunno. I'm not much of a dancer." Boomer was back to where he was before the elbow jab (did he just not care?) and again those eyes were too focused and too weird.

"Bee, you're like the best dancer in that team and I'm not just saying that cause you're Brick's sis. I'm saying that as an observer. But I get it, I know the amnesia must not be easy. You know, if you don't remember things in school I can help. We're not in the same classes but I got ways."

That smile was a smile Buttercup knew all too well. It was that bright, bubbly grin he'd always give...well, Bubbles. Whenever they were together, whenever he had done something like help carry Bubbles bag. It was that overly friendly sort of "I care, I'm here" kinda thing that made her feel even more uncomfortable than she already felt. Looks like that were never meant for her. She never needed kindness. Handouts were not her thing. Did he really think she needed him? (okay, she might still need some help but she was pretty sure at the same time she had enough info to be fine on her own).

The elbow smashed into his face again.

"Seatbelt. ** _Now_**."

"Sheesh, Mom. No need to get your panties in a twist." She couldn't help but turn her head back and watch as Boomer rolled his eyes, his arms going for the seatbelt straps as he made the buckles meet each other. "I was just...oh, I dunno, being encouraging? Can't you see Bee is going through a tough time?"

Did she really look that bad?

When Boomer's eyes looked up to meet hers she stiffened and turned her head back around to focus on the road ahead.

Brick said nothing the rest of the drive and (thankfully) neither did Boomer. When they reached the Utonium household, Buttercup noticed how Brick pulled into the curb instead of his usual spot by the second garage. Because, yes, this world decided to add an extra garage on the left side of the house while the usual one that always existed by the right side was more of a storage and small gym.

She didn't think to ask but when she unbuckled her seatbelt-

"I don't mind Bee coming over to my place."

"I do. Leave."

"Brick, seriously?"

Buttercup didn't think twice as she opened the car door and slammed it behind her. It's not like she felt bothered about being 'kicked out' or how Boomer was being a bit too friendly for her liking, it was more like no matter how hard she tried it still felt bizarre to be near them without her sisters. But then Boomer, Mr. can't seem to take a hint, decided to get out of the car and follow her to the front door of the house. It made her wonder once more if there was an extra screw loose in his head.

"I almost forgot! Here." She didn't even notice the flyer in his hand till he extended it closer. Hesitantly, she reached out and grabbed it not because she was afraid or anything but because she wasn't sure what in the world could be on this piece of paper that he deemed so important to go out of his way to deliver.

Was this really official?

"Since you're going to start running with us I figured, why not?" **BEEP.** ** _BEEPPPP._** "Think about it."

Buttercup couldn't even think even if she wanted to. She just kept her eyes on the poorly made flyer, her free hand instinctively reached out to the doorknob and twisted it open. If she looked up from the paper she would have seen Boomer screaming as he chased after the red car that was leaving him behind. She might have laughed but she only had focus on the flyer even as she walked inside the house all the way to her room and let herself fall on the bed.


End file.
